The Goddess Diaries
by Squin
Summary: Spoof of ‘The Princess Diaries.’ Hermione finds out that her parents aren’t dentists. They’re deities... “A GODDESS? ME?? Yeah. Right.” Emotional distress (on Hermione’s part) and laughter (on your part) ensues! Humor/PARODY/Romance R/Hr **F
1. Part One

Disclaimer:  
Everything you recognise from Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling (aka _The Goddess_ – a real one)  
Everything you recognise from The Princess Diaries belongs to Meg Cabot  
I own nothing :o)

Rating: PG (I think it's not really too bad, I just thought I'd be safe... I'll warn before any _non-Disney_ entries)

Genre:  
Humor/Parody/Romance; R/Hr, H/G and some fake D/Hr

Author's Notes: **[please read]**  
This is a Harry Potterized spoof of the wonderful novel The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot, not the Disney movie, which is a loosely-based adaptation that hardly did justice to the book. (Books are always a gazillion times better oh, except Bridget Jones's Diary, I thought the movie didn't just live up to the book, it was actually better Colin Firth probly has something to do with that hehe)

The story is set during the first two months of 5th Year for Hermione & Co, and, _for the sake of making it work as a PARODY_, I have made a few changes to the canon that you should note:  
1. Draco Malfoy is not only the best looking guy in the whole of Hogwarts (he obviously already is), he is also the most popular and was never actually mean to Hermione, he just ignored her;  
2. Pansy Parkinson looks like Mandy Moore;  
3. Lavender and Parvati are kinda uncool;  
4. Harry is a bit of a twit (but not too much, just a little);  
5. Ron's actually pretty normal (ie he's smart, funny, cute, etc heh heh);  
6. Ginny is very assertive and fiesty and won't take any crap from anyone; and  
7. Hermione has a little self-esteem problem and lied in GoF when she said she doesn't like people just because they are good looking (but she's still smart and stuff, don't worry).

In other words, **this is OOC, totally crazy and very uncanon** but it's also actually rather amusing, you know, the way jokes are supposed to be ;o) If you haven't read The Princess Diaries, IMHO this is still pretty funny, and I hope you get all the bits from it if you _have_ read it.

*****IMPORTANT***** Please also note that a _lot_ of this is straight out of The Princess Diaries. I honestly copied out whole sentances and changed the names... That was my intention... this is meant to be a very very very close parody, that. is. the. point. _This is is Meg Cabot's cool story featuring JK Rowling's awesome characters._ I don't claim any creativity; it's all MC's and JKR's, I just happened to come up with the warped idea of sticking it all together in the one fan fic. I personally feel that it works and that it's funny, so do a whole bunch of people who've already r/r'd this. If you have a problem with all or some of the preceeding, please hit back. But if you enjoy a joke and you're willing to laugh a little, then by all means, please continue. Just remember that I've said this and don't flame me, it hurts my feelings :o)

*****IMPORTANT***** Don't freak over the fact that _Hermione talks like an American_ (and randomly uses Australian slang here and there too), I know she's a Pom, it's just that this is more fun when she does (and it's just a habit).  
This is _pretty_ Un-Hermione. It's for a reason if you want to read some incredibly in-character stuff, search for and read her HQOW series you'll be blown away :o)

Please don't flame me if you think this is stupid, it's supposed to be a **JOKE**. So, to everyone who enjoys a good laugh: ENJOY!  
Cheers, Squin :o)  
(Updated 10 Dec 2001)  


* * *

** The Goddess Diaries**

**Wednesday September 19 2001**

Well today is my birthday and I got this diary from my Mum so I thought I'd you know, write stuff in it.  
My best friend Ginny had a diary when she was in 1st Year, and that turned out to be more than just a little bit dodgy, but this one looks safe enough.  
And yes, I know Ginny is a year younger than me, but it doesn't bother me at all. She's pretty mature for her age and I'm still best friends with Harry and Ron, but they are guys and I need a girl best friend too, you know?  
Ginny stayed over with me for two weeks in the summer, it was so much fun. We did Muggle stuff like going to the movies (_Bridget Jones's Diary_ is so funny!) and shopping in London and all that.  
And so yeah, it's really good that Ginny is my best friend because I'm enough of a freak as it is without just having two blokes as best friends, even is one of them is probably the most famous boy in the Magical world,  
I mean, I'm a total brainiac AND I've never been kissed by a boy. Now that sure rates me pretty high on the Freak-o-meter.  
I sort of had a boyfriend for like 6 months, but he never kissed me so I don't know if he actually _was_ my boyfriend.  
But honestly, what kind of annoying boy stalks you in the library for 3 months, invites you to the Yule Ball, makes you get kidnapped by mer-people because you're the thing he'd most miss, nearly beats your best friend up in the Forbidden Forest because he was jealous, invites you to Bulgaria for the summer then cancels on you and dumps you before even kissing you???  
Honestly.  
I'm not sure if I would actually want to be kissed by Viktor, now that I think about it he's pretty ugly. Really. He's got these feral bushy eyebrows and his nose looks like Snape's (_ew_) and he's all duck footed and hunched over. But still he _is_ and international Quidditch player, but _still_, I can't imaging him putting his tongue in my mouth ew.  
I don't think I'd let him.  
I saw Draco Malfoy put his tongue in Pansy Parkinson's mouth the other day. They where at the table next to me in the library and I got this totally close up view of it. It kinda grossed me out.  
Still, I'd probably let Draco Malfoy kiss _me_ like that. I mean he's the best looking guy in the whole of Hogwarts, and the most popular. He's even more popular than Harry, because although Harry is famous, he's still a bit of a twit, if you can take it that I'm not saying that in any mean sort of way, it's just true.  
But I doubt that Draco Malfoy would ever want to kiss me. He's going out with Pansy Parkinson, who's tall and has long silky blonde hair and all the right body parts that are all the right size (if you get my drift) and is a cheerleader. I think she kinda looks like that American Muggle teeny-bop singer Mandy Moore. Or Britney Spears. Or Christina Aguilera. Or Jessica Simpson. I can't tell, they all look the same.  
_I'd_ never look like that.  
I have dodgy frizzy hair that's sort of curly but not curly enough and is kinda triangular in shape. It's not blonde. It's actually not even brown, but sort of in the middle, like mouse-brown or dishwater-blonde. Attractive, huh? And I'm short (but I'm taller than Harry so I guess that's all right) and I'm still waiting for the growth spurt that goes _out_ as well, and I'd never be a cheerleader, because a) Gryffindor doesn't actually have a cheerleading squad, although Lavender and Parvati were talking about it the other day, and b) I wouldn't get into the squad even if we _did_ have one because I don't fit the main admission criteria: I actually have a brain.  
I wish a boy would notice me.  
Actually, Draco Malfoy did, once.  
We were in Hogsmeade the other day and he saw me and looked at me with those incredibly grey eyes and he said,   
_To me_.  
And the way he looked at me, he was like totally looking into my soul. I mean it. Past the frizzy hair and the test scores and my hitting him in third year (before he was hot) and the fact that I don't know what a Wonky Faint or something is.  
Ginny said his synapses must have been out of wack because of heatstroke (it was pretty hot, for September) and that he must have sort of recognised me but couldn't place my face to a name without the suits of armour and paintings for the Hogwarts corridors behind me.  
But I know it wasn't heatstroke. I know that the truth is, when he's away from Pansy and all this Slytherin friends Draci is a totally different person. The kind of person who doesn't scare that a girl has frizzy hair and is five-foot-three. The kinda of person that can see beyond all that, into the depths of a girl's sould. I know because when I loked into his eyes that day in Hogsmeade, I saw the deeply sensitive person inside him, struggling to get out. I know he's really the most sensitive boy in the whole of the world.  
Ron and Harry would kill me if they knew I said that. They hate Draco.  
They just don't know him.

**Wednesday September 26 2001**

Oh my God.  
Oh. My. God.  
OH. MY. GOD.  
I'm failing a class.  
Me. Hermione Granger. Failing. _FAILING_.  
I feel like my world is collapsing around me.  
But honestly, it's not even a _real_ class.  
In 5th Year it's compulsory to take Flying classes every day after lunch, because we need broomstick licences for OWLs.  
And I can't even make my broomstick jump up into my hand. After 4 weeks.  
Why?  
WHY??  
Because I'm a FREAK, as Pansy Parkinson so eloquently put it.  
She swished past me on _her_ broomstick that _she_ managed to get off the ground and flicked back her Veela hair (from a bottle of Very Veela Vous potion, of course) and was all like,   
Why do nice people like Harry's mum and dad and Cedric Diggory get blown up by You-Know-Who and mean people like Pansy Parkinson never do?  
I don't understand what Draco Malfoy sees in her. I mean, yeah, she's pretty, but she's so _mean_. Doesn't he _notice_?  
But maybe Pansy is nice to Draco. _I_ would sure be nice to Draco. fter all, he's the best looking boy in the whole school. Every other boy looks like a dork in our school uniform, with the grey flannel trousers and white shirt and grey jumper and house tie and black robes, but Draco doesn't. He looks like a model in his uniform. I'm not kidding.  
It would be hard to _not_ be nice to a boy like that.  
So yeah, anyway, I'm failing Flying.  
Madam Hooch told me in private, which was nice of her, and she said she'd give me extra classes after school on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays until I get the hang of it.  
But when I came up to the common room and told Ginny, Ron overheard and he was all, _You_ are _failing_ something? Ha! Ha! Ha!  
Thankfully no one else was around so I had to beg him not to tell anyone. I mean, honestly, he's one of my best friends, how can he be so obnoxious?  
So Ron says, Well, what are you gonna do for me, huh, Hermione? What are you going to do for me? Well, Ron knows that I'm not going to do his homework for him. And besides – I don't actually know how – but Ron got straight A's last year (just like Draco Malfoy). He's a very good flyer (just like Draco Malfoy). And he's really funny so he's pretty popular (just like Draco Malfoy).  
What could _I_ do for someone like that?  
But it's not like Ron's perfect, I mean, unlike Draco Malfoy, Ron's not on the house Quidditch team (although he said he's going to try out next month), he's never actually had a girlfriend and he's not a Prefect because he said he didn't want to be one (he's so weird, but at least I have the point up on him in that area).  
Ron just kinda hangs around making sarcastic comments. Sometimes though, like last summer when I stayed over at The Burrow for a week, Ron makes sarcastic comments when he's not wearing a shirt, and for someone who's not very cool, Ron has a very nice chest. His stomach muscles are extremely well defined.  
I have never mentioned this to Ginny.  
Anyway, I guess Ron got sick of me offering to feel his owl Pigwidgeon and polish his wand for a week, because in the end, he just said in this kind of disgusted voice, Just forget it, ok, Hermione? and went off in a huff.  
When I asked Ginny what why he was so mad, she said because he'd been sexually harassing me and I didn't notice.  
How embarrassing!  
What if Draco Malfoy starts sexually harassing me on day (I wish) and I don't notice? God, I can be so stupid sometimes.  
But Ginny said not to worry about Ron telling anyone about my failing Flying because the only person he has to tell would be Harry and Harry wouldn't be mean about it.  
I guess she's right.  
But still, _failing_???

**Friday September 28 2001**

Ginny Weasley's List of Hottest Guys (compiled when 4th Year Charms and 5th Year Transfiguration had to be substituted by Hagrid at the same time when Profs Flitwick and McGonagall went to a Magical Education in Europe Conference in Rome for the day, with commentary by Hermione Granger)

1. _Draco Malfoy_ (Agree. 6 feet of unadulterated hotness. Notice way blond hair sometimes falls over crystal grey eyes and sleepy smile. Only drawback: has the bad taste to be dating Pansy Parkinson.)

2. _Harry Potter_ (Disagree. Short, skinny, glasses, bad hair, scar, plus is mortal enemy of You-Know-Who, therefore dodgy. Just because he's famous and good at Quidditch, it doesn't mean he's hot. _Oh, you mean like Viktor Krum?_ Precisely. And besides, Hello? He's YOUR BROTHER'S BEST FRIEND. Ew. _Kinda like if you went out with Ron?_ Ex**act**ly. _Hmm, you know, if you married Ron and I married Harry, our kids would be cousins._ GINNY! _Joke!!_)

3. _Cedric Diggory_ (duh. Rest in Peace, Cedric, we will remember you.)

4. _Prince William_ (Totally, even if he is a Muggle.)

5. _Sirius Black_ (AGREE!!! Hello, hotness. Kind of Harry's godfather, though.)

6. _Oliver Wood_ (Absolutely agree – he is undoubtedly hot. He nearly kissed me in 3rd Year, you know. _REALLY??_ Uh-huh. ::eyes glaze over as I ponder, What if?::)

7. _Colin Firth, best Mr Darcy ever_ (Absolutely agree. Hey, how much should he be cast as Sirius Black if they ever make a movie or seven about Harry's life? _AGREE!!_)

8. _Tom Riddle, before he was You-Know-Who – trust me, he was HOT_ (Er Ginny? How do I put this gently let's see oh, I got it: NO.)

9. _Neville Longbottom_ (Strongly disagree. Nice, but not hot.)

10. _Professor Lupin_ (Um sweet, but werewolf.)

**Friday October 5 2001**

Dum-dee-dah, absolutely nothing exciting has happened this whole week.  
I am still failing flying.  
Oh but I got an owl from Mum & Dad and they said my Uncle Hermes in Greece died or something. That's not exciting, though, but I never knew we had relatives in Greece.

**Monday October 8 2001**

Guess what? We are having another Ball. A Halloween Ball.  
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO etc.  
I'm thinking up some good hexes to use on Lavender and Parvati.  
Who's going to invite _me_, huh?  
There aren't any ugly, famous exchange students around this time.  
My life SUCKS.  
But I _did_ get top marks for my Transfiguration essay on Alchemy. Professor McGonagall was very impressed that I'd done such an advanced topic; apparently we don't cover alchemy until 7th Year.

**Wednesday October 10 2001, Lunchtime**

So this really wierd thing happened today.  
I got a letter from Mum and Dad (like the second less than a week _–_ they never write to me this much) and they're coming _here_.  
To see me. Like, WHY?  
They want to meet me this afternoon and so they got permission from Professor McGonagall and she came and told me that I don't have to go to my extra flying class with Madam Hooch that I have to do ever Wednesday afternoon and that someone's coming to pick me up in a _car_.  
Weird, huh?  
What are my parents doing in Hogsmeade and why don't I just walk down there?  
This morning, Pansy Parkinson Purposely Pulled a Pathetic Prank (I like alliteration so sue me) on me when she tripped my up in the corridor on the way to Charms. No one saw though, except Ron, because Ginny was in Herbology and Harry was off sending a letter to Siruis (nothing serious – hehe – don't fret) so he was running late.  
So there I was with my books all over the floor and the Slytherins laughing at me. Draco Malfoy wasn't there yet, though, which was lucky for me. So anyway, I just picked up my books and ignored everyone.  
Ron looked _really_ angry and he was about to yell something thing at Pansy – actually, I think he wanted to hit her but couldn't, because she was a girl – but I just pulled his arm and told him to ignore her too. He said that was pretty gutsy of me – wasn't that nice of him? – but just now, Ginny said I have a fear of confrontation and that I should really be more assertive and not let Pansy keep walking all over me (or under me, as was the case in this situation).  
But what would I say?

**More Wednesday, Ladies Room, Three Broomsticks**

Oh. My. God. (Although that might not be the most appropriate expression anymore.) I'm so freaked out I can barely write. I have to get this down exactly the way it happened. Otherwise, when I wake up tomorrow, I might think it was just a nightmare.  
But it wasn't a nightmare. It was REAL.  
I'm not going to tell anybody, not even Ginny. Ginny would NOT understand. NOBODY would understand. Because nobody I know has never been in this situation before. Nobody ever went to bed one night as one person, then woke up the next morning to find out that she was somebody completely different.  
Oh no, wait, that happened to Harry. But he's NORMAL. He just found out he was a wizard and he LIKED his different somebody-ness. I don't. And I NEVER will.  
After Arithmancy I went down to the Entrance Hall and there was this guy in a chauffer suit waiting and he said, Good afternoon, Miss Granger. And I was really confused, because he wasn't wearing robes and was dressed like a Muggle but he was _inside Hogwarts_. What's with that, huh? And then there was a limo outside the doors. I'm not kidding. A _limousine_. But it must have been magical, because it had couches instead of seats, I mean, it was HUGE inside, and a little snack bar with Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and Chocolate Frogs and other wizard sweets. And I was _more_ confused. Why did _my parents_ send a _magical limousine_ with _confectionary_ inside to pick me up to take to Hogsmeade?  
When I got dropped off outside the Three Broomsticks (I opened the door myself and hit the driver – his name is Nick – because I didn't know he was going to open it for me) I went inside and Madam Rosmerta took me to this little private parlour where my parents were waiting. I hugged them and stuff and sat down and straight away went, What's going on?  
So, do you know why my parents came all the up here for? Because my Uncle died.  
I was like, Mum, really, I'm not upset, I'll be fine, don't worry, I'll get over it. I mean, I've never even met the guy. And Mum went all sad at me. I thought I wasn't being sensitive enough and I said Sorry, Mum, but she started crying! I guess it _was_ her brother.  
But honestly, it would have been nice of them to tell me, though, that she had a brother who was – wait for it – A GOD.  
Um, _Hello_? Yes, I said exactly the same thing.  
So my whole life I've just thought my parents are dentists, right?  
But NO. They are DEITIES.  
Oh, so no wonder you never tried to fix my teeth, I said.  
And Dad put on his serious face and was all Honey, it is really important that you listen.  
So I listened while Mum – in between blowing her nose – told me that my Uncle Hermes was the KING OF MOUNT OLYMPUS.  
Hi, nice to meet you.  
And MY MUM is PRINCESS HELEN, and not only are they Royalty, because, obviously, that's not enough, THEY ARE DIVINITY.  
And I sort of started at her blankly for a moment and said, Nice joke, Mum and Dad, but really, why did you want to meet me? but I was like thinking, _what on EARTH is going on?_ because my parents never joke.  
And Mum said, It's not a joke, Hermione, it's the truth.  
So OK, get this: THIS WHOLE TIME she has been a _goddess_. What happened was, Mum didn't want me to be involved in all this God stuff, right, because she hated it, and her brother was older so he was going to become the King when my Grandpapa died (before I was born) anyway, so she moved over here, and pretended to be a dentist. Well, she actually became a dentist to pretend she wasn't a goddess, met my Dad, got married, and just figured she'd be boring and normal. Except for the part of me being a witch I guess excitement just follows her around.  
BUT. Now that Uncle Hermes passed away, _my mother_ has to go back to GREECE and be the QUEEN OF MOUNT OLYMPUS.  
Oh. My. Word.  
And then Dad's all like, So, Hermione, darling, you understand, don't you? and I said No, actually, I don't, because something like me being a witch is odd but _normal_ and _understandable_, but Mum being a Goddess is just RANDOM. I mean, uh, excuse me for sounding rude, but a _GODDESS_?? They're from like myths and all that.  
And then I thought I had their little game figured out and that they were just off their rockers and being weird on me, because, If Uncle Hermes was a _God_, how did he die? Aren't deities supposed to me immortal? HAH!!!!!! Got ya.  
But NOOOOOOO.  
No dear, that was only from the myths. In reality, Gods are like normal people with special powers, like witches and wizards, explained Mum.  
No wonder they didn't freak when I got my Hogwarts letter. Justin Finch-Fletchley, who's also Muggle-born, said his mum fainted, then went to get some retail-therapy and bought half of Harrod's.  
So, honey, says Mum, you're not Hermione Granger anymore.  
I'm not? I looked at her and blinked a few times. Then who am I?  
Then she went, kind of sadly, You are Goddess Hermione Athena Demeter Granger Acropolis, Heiress to the Throne of Mount Olympus.  
OK.  
WHAT? A GODDESS?? ME???  
Yeah. Right.  
This is how NOT a goddess I am. I am so NOT a goddess that when my Mum started telling me that I was one, I totally started crying. I could see myself in this big gold mirror across the room, and my face had gotten all splotchy like it did last week when my broomstick hit my in the face (at least it moved when I said ). I looked at my face in that big mirror and I was like, _this_ is the face of a Goddess? I already told you what I look like. Goddess can't look like what I look like. Ginny says my only attractive feature is my eyes, which have like about twenty different shades of brown in them, but right then they were all squinty and red-looking, since I was crying.  
I mean, goddesses don't cry, right?  
Then my Dad reaches out and started patting my hand. OK, I love my Dad, but he just has no clue. Mum was all quiet and he kept on saying how sorry he was. I couldn't say anything in reply because I was afraid if I talked I'd cry harder. Dad kept on saying how it wasn't that bad, that I'd like living at the palace in Olympia with them, and that I could come back and visit my little friends as often as I wanted.  
That's when I lost it.  
Not only am I a goddess, but I have to MOVE? To stop going to Hogwarts?  
I stopped crying almost right away. Because then I got mad. Really mad. I don't get mad really often, because of my fear of confrontation and all, but when I _do_ get mad, look out. (As Draco Malfoy found out in Third Year omg, I can_not_ believe I DID that!)  
I am NOT moving to Greece, I said in this really loud voice. And I can't be a goddess-princess, I'm a freak, look at me. And what about Uncle Hermes's kids? Why can't _they_ be heirs?  
Mum looked down at her cup of tea. Because he didn't have any.  
Thank goodness Madam Rosmerta had given us a private parlour, because that was when I started yelling, HOW CAN HE NOT HAVE ANY KIDS? HE WAS A _KING_ FOR GOD'S SAKE oh, sorry.  
He just didn't think he'd die so young, honey, said Mum, tearing up. He was never really good with girls and he was just waiting to meet the right one then he he and she started bawling.  
I didn't care. I was MAD. So then I said, Look, Mum, sorry for yelling, but I DON'T WANT TO LIVE IN GREECE AND BE A GODDESS, I JUST WANT TO SAY AT HOGWARTS AND BE A NORMAL WITCH!  
And then I ran out of the parlour, slammed the door shut behind me and here I am in the ladies' room.  
Mum's just come in and she's apologizing and wants me to come out because I have to get back to school, so I better go.  
OH. MY. MOTHER.  
If Pansy Parkinson finds out about this, I'm dead.

Continued in Part Two...

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**ARE YOU ABOUT TO FLAME ME?** Did you have problems with uncreativity, unoriginality, plagerism, Americanism and OOC-ness in this ickle fic? Well, before you mount your high-horse and push that little button down there, **PLEASE. READ. THE. AUTHOR'S. NOTES.** Go on, scroll up, it's not that hard. If you're still confused after that, go look up _parody_ in the dictionary, and maybe you could also learn how to laugh... it's actually fun. Have a nice day :o) - Squin, 10 Dec 01


	2. Part Two

Disclaimer:  
Everything you recognise from Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling (aka _The Goddess_ – a real one)  
Everything you recognise from The Princess Diaries belongs to Meg Cabot  
I own nothing :o)

Author's Note:  
Well. I got some really nice reviews and I got some flames, so I sat there for a while trying to work out if I should bother continuing but you know, I'm having fun, so I'll keep going. I _know_ that I copied whole sentences out of The Princess Diaries and just changed the names, that was actually pretty much the point it's a _spoof_ A joke. Not to be taken seriously. I guess I should have said that earlier. (Actually, I just re-uploaded Part 1 so it does say that now.) I'm hereby revoking any claims what-so-ever to creativity, and I sincerely hope I didn't actually make any I just thought, Hey, I like The Princess Diaries and duh, I like Harry Potter wouldn't if be cool if I put the HP guys in TPD story etc etc. I just wanted to have a little fun with this, I didn't want to actually write a story and claim I wrote it! It's a piece of light entertainment, and that's all. I apologise to anybody I offended. If I you laughed, I'm so glad you did, and thank you for letting me know, I really appreciate it :o)

* * *

**The Goddess Diaries - Part Two**

**Thursday October 11 2001, Astronomy Tower**

My life is a lie. A lie. A LIE.  
OK. Hermione, take a deep breath. Calm down. Start at the beginning.  
The beginning. Yes.  
Today at breakfast Ginny, Ron and Harry were all, Are you alright? because I didn't talk to anybody when I go back last night and they could totally tell that something was wrong.  
But I couldn't exactly tell them that I was upset because I just found out that I am a GODDESS, could I? Uh, NO. I remembered how Ginny talks about religion and sectarianism as being the downfall of humanity.  
Oh, you know, my Uncle Hermes died, it's all very sad.  
Ron and Harry bought it, because they are guys and so very dense (and there's nothing wrong with that when you don't want to talk) but Ginny remembered that I told her last week how I'd never met my uncle. So spill. Did Crookshanks kill someone else's pet?  
I shot daggers at her. Ron coughed rather loudly.  
Uh, it's probably just PMS, I'm fine, really.  
You can't have PMS, Hermione, you had your period last week. I remember because you were saying how you had to ditch Harry and Ron in Hogsmeade to buy tampons and on Thursday you ate four puddings at lunch.  
Ron and Harry went redder than I was. I wish Ginny would stop being so assertive and caring and didn't have such a good memory. Then she saw the boys sitting there examining their cereal with a _great_ deal of interest and dropped it.  
Thank God.  
I mean oh _whatever_.  
And then I was in Potions (Ron and Harry wouldn't even _look_ at me after breakfast obviously I'm a freak who's a _girl_ now, as Ron so kindly pointed out last year) and Professor McGonagall comes in looking all stern and says that I have to go to Professor Dumbledore's office. Professor Snape looked all pleased that I was in trouble and let me go. As I left Pansy Parkinson waved and smiled evilly at me.  
Professor McGonagall was all silent as we were walking to Professor Dumbledore's office and then she just goes, I heard you're _still_ failing Flying, Miss Granger, and I got really worried because she usually calls me Hermione' when I'm not in class, even though she calls all of the other kids Miss' or Mr' and I think, _Oh my God, I'm going to get expelled because I can't work a broomstick!!!_ I'm a failure to witches and wizards the world over. I bet I embarrass the school.  
But what's the big deal? Can't I just learn to Apparate in the three years? Or maybe I won't be able to that either.  
So I just said, Yes, I am, but I've been improving this last week, and I couldn't believe I just lied to my favourite teacher, because I was no better this week than I was in _1st Year_. Then we got to Professor Dumbledore's door and I didn't have to speak to her anymore. She muttered the password to the gargoyle, which hopped out the way, and left.  
I stopped dead when I got to Professor Dumbledore's office.  
MY PARENTS WHERE SITTING THERE.  
_Argh, I AM getting expelled!!_  
But they were actually there to talk to me about being a goddess. I wished I _was_ getting expelled; I'd rather that than be a goddess, which is saying something because I'd rather die than get expelled from Hogwarts.  
Professor Dumbledore and my Dad where just sitting there having a nice chat about _when my Dad was at Hogwarts_. CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT????  
I stared at him. He got all embarrassed and he told me that HE IS A WIZARD and I started yelling again, demanding why he'd never told me and he said that he and Mum never thought I'd be a witch so they thought they wouldn't tell me because Mum wanted to be and then when I _did_ end up being a witch they didn't want me to be upset so they kept lying to me.  
_Well._  
EXCUSE ME, I yelled some more, BUT DO YOU REALISE THAT I WOULD HAVE BEEN LESS UPSET THAT YOU LIED TO ME FOR ELEVEN YEARS THAN I AM NOW FROM FINDING OUT THAT YOU'VE BEEN LYING TO ME MY WHOLE LIFE WHILE I'VE HAD TO DEAL WITH FOUR YEARS OF PEOPLE CALLING ME   
Professor Dumbledore looked really surprised to see me yelling, but not as much as Mum and Dad because I never yell, even though they saw me yell yesterday, and Ginny says I have a fear of confrontation.  
Well. Did I ever confront them then. But I was also crying so it wasn't as effective. I started crying even _more_ when they told me that I was transferring to the Athena Magi School in Athens (well, you'd think that's where is it, wouldn't you?) _where my Mum went to school_.  
I nearly keeled over.  
HELLO? I AM A PUREBLOOD?? AND HOW STUPID WHERE THEY TO THINK THAT I'D NOT BE A WITCH. _How_ can these people be my parents? THEY ARE SO DENSE. _Honestly_.  
I yelled at them that I wasn't transferring ANYWHERE. You _lied_ to be my whole life! Why you I come and live with _you_?  
I realise this was a completely _Party of Five_ thing to say, and I'm sorry to say I followed it up with some pretty _Party of Five_ behaviour. I turned around on my heel really quickly and stormed out of Professor Dumbledore's office and slammed the door. I didn't stop walking 'til I got here, but no one saw me and no one stopped me.  
I bet Mum and Dad weren't impressed that I'd walked out on them on them _again_.  
I can't believe this.  
My _entire life_ has been a lie.  
Why is this happening to me?  
What did I do to deserve this, huh?  
What?  
WHAT?  
WHAT??????

**Later Thursday, my dorm room**

OK, so I went down to lunch because I was pretty hungry (all this crying really takes it out of you) and because I didn't want to get in any more trouble – I'd missed Potions and Runes and Care of Magical Creatures already due to the fact that I had been bawling up the top of the Astronomy tower – and Ginny just wouldn't get off my back about why my eyes were all red so I had to tell her that my parents had to come and see the Headmaster because I'm failing Flying, _but_ Pansy Parkinson, the nosy cow, overheard me telling Ginny and now THE WHOLE SCHOOL KNOWS.  
Can my life get any worse?  
Now I'm not just a know-it-all freak, I'm a freak who _fails classes_.  
And then I had to go BACK to Professor Dumbledore's office and Mum and Dad were full apologetic for pulling this on me.  
They said that Professor Dumbledore had come up with an idea for a compromise. Isn't he great? Now I'm allowed to stay at Hogwarts 'til after I've finished 7th Year, but I have to go to Greece for the Summer holidays and Christmas – I'm not complaining about Christmas. Last Christmas all that happened was I had yet another HUGE fight with Ron. I'm willing to sacrifice that – and so it'll be like being a part-time goddess or something and that can't be so bad, can it?  
I'm sure it will be.  
After I left I had just one class left – Charms – so I went to that. And now I have HEAPS of homework.  
I wish I could talk to someone about this. I wish I could tell Ginny. But I can't. I know she would hate me. She is vehemently opposed to religion because when it is prescribed onto the masses it leads to fundamentalism, delusion and sectarianism and will ultimately become the downfall of world.  
At least, that's what she said in her History of Magic oral report about the Puritans and their witch-burnings and book banning and stuff.  
She would hate me if she found out I was a goddess, even if I'm not a Christian one who would never tell anyone to burn witches and ban books because they are about magic.  
Oh, Ginny's insisting that I come out of my room now and she says that I have to cheer up and that she and Harry and Ron are going to do it or die trying.  
I told her that it would be better for the world if I was miserable than them being dead, because they would fail, but she's making me.

**Friday October 12 2001, early**

Today when I woke up the robins outside my window were chirping away (Crookshanks was on the windowsill, watching them), and the sun was shining and I have my own room now because I'm a Prefect so I don't have to listen to Lavender and Parvati yapping away while they did their hair every morning like over the past four years. I took a shower and didn't cut my legs shaving them, found a fairly unwrinkled set of school robes in the bottom of my trunk, and even got my hair to look halfway passable. I was in a good mood. It was _Friday_. Friday is my favourite day, besides Saturday and Sunday. Fridays always means two days – two glorious, relaxing days – of NO Flying are coming my way.  
It was still early and I had some homework leftover so I happily took it down to the common room to finish it.  
And then I remembered. I remembered why I still had homework. I still had homework because I didn't do it last night. I didn't do it last night because last night Ginny insisted on cheering me up. Last night Ginny insisted on cheering me up because two days ago I found out something that made me miserable. I couldn't believe I'd forgotten:  
I'm a _goddess_.  
Oh my God. (Habit.) Everything good about my day went right out the window after that.  
But no use dwelling on it, I suppose. All my homework is done now, and I've got a while before breakfast, so I figure I'd fill in on Ginny and Harry and Ron's cheering efforts.  
Last night was totally fun.  
Ron zapped me with a Cheering Charm the second I came down to the common room, so I was all hyper for a while 'til it wore off. He made me play chess with him while I was still Charmed and I was giggling the whole time so got thumped – I still can't believe I haven't beaten him yet EVER. One day, Ronald Weasley, one day I will get you.  
Then we all kinda just sat around talking about stuff, like what we were going to do next summer and all (which was odd because it's still _October_).  
Then, Ginny asked me who I thought was the best _Bridget Jones_ guy, because we'd seen the move _last_ summer. I said, because he was nice and he really loved her and Daniel was just a creep.  
Ginny agreed, but Ron and Harry where pretty confused, because they hadn't seen the movie, and it was a chick flick, anyway.  
So, I asked Harry who he liked best, Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Sabrina the Teenage Witch, (he'd seen those shows over the summers with the Dursleys because Dudley likes them, even if Harry's Aunt Petunia refuses to be in the same room as the telly when _Sabrina_ is on) and Harry said, Sabrina, because Buffy's a little overly violent. I told you he was a twit.  
By this stage, poor Ron was feeling a bit left out, so I asked him if he'd prefer Celestina Warbeck, the Singing Sorceress, or the Pride of Portee Keeper Meghan McCormack. He picked the Quidditch player.  
Typical.  
Then Ginny asked me the weirdest question. She said, If it was the end of the world and you had to repopulate the planet with only one life mate, who would you choose, Colin Firth or Kirley McCormack? (He's the lead guitarist of the Weird Sisters.)  
After telling her how weird I thought she was for thinking up that question, I picked Colin – I wish someone would look at _me_ the way he looks at Bridget Jones and Elizabeth Bennett in BBC's _Pride and Prejudice_ – and then Harry asked Ginny, if she had to choose between Kirley McCormack and Kennilworthy Whisp, who would it be, and Ginny said Kirley McCormack, and I said I'd choose him too – Hello? Someone who writes books about _Quidditch_? As if – then Ron goes, Who would you choose, Kirley McCormack or Viktor Krum? and we both chose Kirley McCormack because Viktor is so passé, and Ron looked kinda smug, then he went, Who would you choose, Kirley McCormack or Draco Malfoy, and Ginny said Kirley McCormack, because he used to be a carpenter before he joined the Weird Sisters and if it was the end of the world, he could build her a house, but I said Draco Malfoy, because he'd live longer – Kirley is like THIRTY – and be able to give me a hand with the kids.  
Then Ron started saying all this totally unfair stuff about Draco Malfoy, like how in the face of Armageddon he'd probably show cowardice, but Ginny said fear of new things is not an accurate measure of one's potential for growth, with which I agreed. Then Ron said we were both idiots if we thought Draco Malfoy would ever give us so much as the time of day, that he only likes girls like Pansy Parkinson, who have mastered the art of Body Enhancement Charms.  
So Ginny asked Ron who he would choose if he had to, me or Pansy Parkinson, and he said, without even hesitating, Hermione, of course, but I'm sure he was only saying that because I was right there in the room and he didn't want to dis me to my face.  
I wish Ginny wouldn't do things like that.  
But she kept on doing it, wanting to know who Ron would choose, me or Celestina Warbeck, or me or Meghan McCormack. He chose me over Celestina, but Meghan won, hands down, over me, because Ron said he'd be able to play Quidditch with Meghan and he'd just get bored of me talking about books that used to exist, but didn't anymore, with the world being blown up, and all.  
Humph.  
Harry laughed at that and I was pretty annoyed at him so I totally laughed _my_ head off when Ron asked Harry who he'd choose, Ginny or Cho Chang. Ginny went all pouty at Ron and Harry went _really_ red and said he'd have to think about it. Ginny looked really cut and I felt quite mean for laughing, but then she deserved it for what she said next.  
Hey, Hermione, who would you choose to be with for Eternity, Ron or Draco Malfoy?  
Gaaaah!  
Well, it was SO obviously Draco Malfoy, but Ron was right there and he's one of my best friends and he hates Draco, and he'd get really upset if I _said_ Draco – I could tell because he was looking at me _really_ closely – so I was all, Oh, well, yeah, that would be really easy trying like mad to avoid saying anything but not wanting to pull a Harry at the same time, when Fred and George exploded some Filibusters that they'd be so they were about ten times louder.  
Professor McGonagall rushed in and yelled at them and made everyone go up to their dorms (it was pretty late by then, anyway).  
Maybe my Uncle Hermes was looking out for me. Heh.  
When we were going upstairs, Ginny asked me again who I'd choose, Draco Malfoy or her brother, and I had to say Draco Malfoy, because Draco Malfoy is the hottest boy in our whole school, maybe even the whole world, and I am completely and totally in love with him, and not just because of the way his blond hair sometimes falls over his amazing grey eyes or because he's a Prefect and the Slytherin Quidditch Captain, but because I know that behind that jock-façade he maintains, he is a deeply sensitive and caring person, I could tell by the way he looked at me in Hogsmeade.  
But I couldn't help thinking if it _really_ were the end of the world, it might be better with Ron, even if he isn't so hot, because at least he makes me laugh. I think at the end of the world, a sense of humour would be important.  
Plus, of course, Ron looks really good without a shirt.  
And if it really was the end of the world, Ginny would be dead, so she'd never know her brother and I were procreating!  
I'd _never_ want Ginny to know I felt that way about Ron. She'd think it was weird. What if she told him? _He_'d think it was weird.  
Weirder even than me turning out to be a Goddess of Mount Olympus.

**Later Friday, Notes from the common room** (warning: _non-Disney_ entry) 

Ginny – I can't stand this. Why is Prof McG in the common room?  
Since when do we have supervised study? And it's FRIDAY NIGHT!  
_ I don't know. Maybe she has to keep and eye on   
_ _Gred and Forge. Merlin, he is so CUTE._  
Who's cute?  
_HARRY!_  
He isn't cute. He's a twit, scar or no scar.  
_ Are you still miserable?_  
Yes.

_ Ginny Weasley's Top Five Pick-Up Lines for Quidditch Players  
5. So, are the rumours true? Is it really a Firebolt?  
4. Well, I'm pretty agile on a broomstick.  
3. Do you want a hand polishing your Firebolt?  
2. Is that a Firebolt in your pocket, or are you happy to see me?  
1. Hey there. Can I ride _your_ Firebolt?_

Hermione Granger's Top Five Worst Reponses to above Pick-Up Lines  
5. No, it's a Cleansweep Three, actually.  
4. Sorry, I play for the other team.  
3. No thanks, I'm already getting it serviced.  
2. ARGH! The Snitch! And I couldn't get it because you were in the way, you git!  
1. No, I just hand polished it this afternoon.

_Hermione, you are such a pessimist. Lighten up._  
No I'm not, I'm a realist. And you have a one-track mind.  
_Oh come on. How can you say that Harry's not cute?_  
Like this: HARRY'S NOT CUTE.  
_You're just jealous, because Harry's a Quidditch genius,  
and you're flunking Flying._  
Ginny, just because I'm flunking Flying does NOT mean I'm stupid.  
_OK, OK. What's wrong with you?_  
NOTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!

**Saturday 13 October 2001**

Mum made me sign a contract. I can't be bothered to write it all out, but it basically says that I'm allowed to finish school at Hogwarts as long as I do goddess stuff over the holidays. It's that thing.  
I had to go down to Hogsmeade again, so after lunch Nick came to pick me up again and took me to the Three Broomsticks which is where Mum and Dad are staying until this gets sorted out.  
I was fine with the Granger-Acropolis Compromise, except for this part about functions of the realm. What were they?  
My Mum got all vague. Oh, you know. Attending the funerals of spiritual leaders, religious festivals, opening balls, that sort of thing.  
Hello? Funerals? Balls?  
I don't go to balls. Look at what happened last year, and _no-one_ wants to take me this year, it's in like two weeks and I haven't been invited. I mean, who would want to look at me at a ball anyway?  
That Sleakeasy stuff last year took like TWO HOURS and I refuse to do it again. Frizz forever, that's my motto.  
And I don't know anything about Greek religion. Or Greek anything, for that matter.  
Oh, don't worry, dear, Grandmamma will take care of that.  
But she lives in France, I said to Mum, How can she?  
ANOTHER LIE.  
Grandmamma lives in France for the summers when we go to visit her there. She actually lives in Greece.  
SIGH.  
But hey, what can she do? She's still in Greece!  
Ha! Ha! Ha!

**Later Saturday**

Well. When I got back to school, Pansy Parkinson and her entourage were doing cheer drills in the grounds when I drove up in the limo and she was all, Oooooooh, does the Muggle-born have to get driven around in a _car_ now, because she can't work a broomstick? in this really snotty voice.  
I was so going to yell at her, Oh shut up you ditz, I'm a Pureblood AND a goddess AND I've got something you'll never have, BRAINS, but I wasn't feeling very assertive.  
And then Nick opens up his window – I refused to let him open the door for me to get out. What does he think I am? An idiot who can't open car doors? – and tells me that I left my quill in the car, so when I get out again from picking it up, Pansy is like FLIRTING WITH NICK!!!! (He was giving her this weird You are such a bimbo, get away look as he was closing up the tinted window)  
I couldn't believe it!  
HELLO? She's going out with Draco Malfoy _and_ flirting with my driver at the same time??  
What a hussy.  
Draco Malfoy deserves SO much better.  
I wished he'd come over and see, but he didn't.

**Things to do:**  
1. Transfiguration – Notes  
2. Charms – read up on Levitation Charms (hmmmmm)  
3. Arithmancy – problems pg 373-491  
4. Buy:  
A. Two new quills  
B. Ink (blue)  
5. Write to Dept. Of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures  
re: renewing Kneazle licence for Crookshanks (expires December)  
6. Be more assertive  
7. Stop thinking about Draco Malfoy

**Sunday 14 October 2001**

There were Quidditch tryouts today. Obviously, I didn't try out because _I can't fly_, but Ron and Ginny did, so I went down to watch and cheer them on. Maybe I should join the Gryffindor Cheer Squad that Lav & Pav have started uh, maybe not.  
Ginny's going for chaser and Ron's going for keeper. He was actually very good.  
When Ginny had finished we were just hanging around near the drink fountains waiting for Ron and Harry when Pansy Parkinson and her little group walked over, and Pansy was like, Oh, can't get off the ground, Hermione? May I suggest a _broom_, you use them to _fly_.  
I would have hauled her off and hexed her – but maybe I wouldn't have, Ginny says I have a fear of confrontation, and all – if Draco Malfoy hadn't walked up AT THAT VERY MOMENT. I knew he totally heard, but all he said was, Can I get by here? to Ginny because she was blocking his way to the drink fountain.  
I was so ready to go slinking back to the common room – that was all I needed, my inability to fly pointed out _right in front of Draco Malfoy_ – but Ginny couldn't leave it well enough alone. She got all red in the face – like Ron does when he gets mad – and said to Pansy, Why don't you do us all a favour and go curl up some place and die, Parkinson?  
Well, nobody tells Pansy Parkinson to curl up some place and die. I mean nobody. Unless they want their names all over the walls of the Girls' Bathrooms.  
But Ginny doesn't care about things like that. I mean, she's already _had_ her name scrawled over the walls at school. In blood. Ginny's been possessed by the young You-Know-Who. She's not scared of anything.  
So when Pansy Parkinson started in on her for telling her to curl up and die, Ginny just blinked up at her and was like, Bite me.  
The whole thing would have escalated into this giant girl fight – Ginny has six brothers and can duel like nobody's business – if Draco Malfoy hadn't picked up his Nimbus 2001 and said I'm outta here, in a disgusted voice. That was when Pansy dropped it like a flobberworm and scooted after him going, Draco, wait up. Wait up, Draco!  
Ginny and I stood there looking at each other like we couldn't believe it. I still can't. Who _are_ these people and why do we have to be incarcerated with them on a daily basis?

**Monday 15 October 2001**

Oh, I am so bummed. They're gone. Mum and Dad went to Greece.  
Just like that.  
Gone.  
I'm so alone.  
Actually, it's not like I see them everyday because I'm at boarding school and stuff, and they can Apparate over in emergencies (HONESTLY!) and all that, but still They're in _another country_.  
So after Runes, my last class today, I ran up to the common room to find Ginny, because even if I can't tell her everything, talking to her makes me feel so much better.  
But she wasn't around. Ron was, though, doing homework – what _has_ gotten into him lately? Is he sick? Has he been possessed by someone? Did he get hit by a Bludger at Quidditch tryouts yesterday? – so I said to him, Hey Ron, have you seen Ginny?

And he looked up at me and didn't say anything for a second, and then he said, Why do you have to talk to Ginny?  
Um, duh, because she's my best friend. I said, Oh, it's none of your business. I know that was pretty rude, but I was also pretty upset.  
And so Ron got all narky was like, What's the matter Hermione, Dreamboy hasn't invited you to the Halloween ball yet? and I go, Who's Dreamboy? and Ron says, You know, your post-apocalyptic life mate of choice, Draco Malfoy.  
I started screaming inside my head, Ginny told him! I can't believe she told him! I'm going to kill her!  
But I couldn't say anything, and by then I was even more upset and so I said, kind of meanly, Oh shut up Ron, HAVE – YOU – SEEN – GINNY? and he said, even more meanly, What's wrong Hermione, did I strike a nerve? and jumped up, left all his books there and stormed out of the common room.  
Ron can be such a jerk sometimes.  
If he thought I was going to congratulate him on getting Gryffindor Keeper – which I was going to do, because he did – he'd better think again after _that_.  
Humph.

And then Ginny came up, she was late because she had been talking to Professor Flitwick after class and she was even more upset than I was because she didn't get on the team _and_ she's failing Charms, so I didn't feel like yelling at her for telling Ron about me choosing Draco Malfoy because I know how she's feeling about being terrible at Flying and failing and she made me feel heaps better about my parents moving to Greece (to look after my Grandmother who's devastated at losing her only son).  
My life is a convoluted web of lies.  
I think it's genetic.

Continued in Part Three...


	3. Part Three

Disclaimer:  
Everything you recognise from Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling (aka _The Goddess_ – a real one)  
Everything you recognise from The Princess Diaries belongs to Meg Cabot  
I own nothing :o)

Author's Notes:  
Honestly, do people _read_ these Author's notes?? I think a lot don't, because otherwise, they wouldn't flame me for things I already defended myself for! Sheesh! Here we go again: I AM COPYING MEG CABOT BUT USING JK ROWLING'S CHARACTERS AND PLACES. Yes. I've said it twice already, and I'll say it _again_: THIS IS A PARODY THEREFORE IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE JUST LIKE THE BOOK WITH DIFFERENT NAMES. Part of the dictionary definition for _parody_ includes the phrase close imitation. Ever read _Mad_ Magazine? Honestly. If I get another You're copying Meg Cabot and you're not creative and you're ruining Hermione, I'm gonna pull my hair out and got back to writing angsty-fluff!!! Gaaaah!  
_Oh Ron, I can't take this anymore, I just have to tell you now before Voldemort kills us: I love you. Oh Hermione, I love you too!!! Let's never fight again, I hate it when we fight, it just wrenches my heart out, I just never knew how to tell you because I love you sooooooo much. *Voldemort Apparates into the scene* Oh no, it's the Dark Lord! Be with me forever Ron. Forever!! *Voldemort laughs evilly* Avada Kedavra! *Ron keels over* Ronnnnnnnnnnnn!! Noooooooooo!!!! You bastard!!! *Voldemort laughes evilly again and Disapperates* Come back here and kill me, you took away my true love! How could you?! Oh Ron my sweet darling Ron how can you be dead? How can I go on without you? Oh I love you!!!! *Ron wakes up* Hermione! Your true love saved me! Oh Ron! Now we can be together forever! *Big smoochy kiss* The End  
_Blerch. Do you really what that? No? Then if you don't have anything nice to say, and just wanna berate me for stuff that I already pointed out is true, save your finger power and resist the urge to flame me, ok? ;o)  
You may have noticed I've skipped the Mr Ginanni thing. Well, that was because it was too hard to make it work for HP, because they go to boarding school, so there's more emphasis on school than family. I thought I'd ship Hermione's folks off to Greece and just focus more on the Mia/Michael=Hermione/Ron plot and pay out on Pansy a lot instead. I had someone say, Oh, you've screwed up all the chapters blah blah blah blah blah. Sorry. I couldn't make myself rip-off the WHOLE book; that would be more pathetic than what you think I've done already. It's funny, when I _do_ make some changes of my own, I get yelled at for that too!  
It looks like some people just need to take a chill-pill, put on some boxers to stop getting their knickers in a twist and go back to reading angst if they can't take a joke ;o)  
To: Songbreeze, Emma, Bookworm, Nefertare, Erin, likeicare, villageidiot333, Shankz, Smile, Karma Rose 195, The Girl Who Loved, Sweet Tooth, Zipperhead3, CuteDiva, Beauty Full, Amara, Amy, Chibikat, rumi, Cora, Lulu, Lady Norbert (never fear, I will make this work, even if it kills me!), naavi, kezz_weasley and iamtheanonymous – thank you _so much_ for being such good sports and encouraging me to continue with my wacky idea!! HUGS TO YOU ALL!! :o)

* * *

**The Goddess Diaries - Part Three**

**Tuesday October 16 2001**

**Ode to Flying**  
Silent and deathly still,  
My broom lies on the grass.  
These daily flying lessons  
Are turning into a farce.  
My classmates are zooming  
Through the air with such skill.  
Flying, gliding, soaring,  
It sure looks like a thrill.  
Misery, woe, pity me,  
Broomstick, oh broomstick,  
What is wrong with thee?

**Homework**  
Runes: Translations – pg 234-256  
DADA: none  
Potions: Dream Potions essay (due next Friday)  
Arithmancy: Problems – Ex. 27  
Charms: reading – _Std Bk of Spells 5_ pg 53-127  
Flying: (dum-dee-dum)  
CoMG: none  
Transfig: Animate/Inanimate Switching essay for extra credit.

**Wednesday October 17 2001, the Library, before Charms**

Oh no.  
_She's_ here.  
Well, not _here_, exactly, not at Hogwarts, but she's in Britain. She's on the same island. She's in London. She's staying at the Ritz Carlton. Thank Merlin. (See? I'm getting better!) At least it's not the same country. I have to go see her tomorrow afternoon. How I'm going to get from Scotland to London to see my grandmother tomorrow afternoon and be back in time for dinner is beyond me.  
I just got the letter from Mum at breakfast. I couldn't tell Ginny or anybody, of course, so I scoffed down my toast and scooted here to the library because, you know, I have to make sure I have everything right in the bibliography for my extra credit Transfiguration essay.  
The boys are so thick that that excuse never fails when I don't want to talk to them. They wouldn't follow me to the Library voluntarily unless it involved rule breaking. Ginny's still moping a bit because she didn't get on the Quidditch team. I don't know why it bothers her, I mean, honestly, it's only _Quidditch_.  
Anyway, back to Grandmamma.  
WHAT IS SHE DOING IN ENGLAND???  
She _has_ to be in Greece being comforted by my parents!!!!!  
You know I always thought Hera was a rather cool name for my grandmother to have Oh how naïve I was How _little_ I knew  
I don't want to visit my grandmother. I don't _like_ my grandmother. She's really crabby and mean and Mum's scared of her. Mum's never actually _said_ she's scared of her, it's just pretty obvious by the way she acts about her when we go to visit her in her let's-lie-some-more-to-Hermione fake home in France. Dad always seems to get laryngitis when we go to France. That way he doesn't have to talk to her.  
Somebody ought to warn the Prime Minister she's here. I mean it, he really ought to know. Because if anybody could start the Apocalypse, it's my grandmother.  
Why did she have to come NOW? She's going to ruin EVERYTHING. There's no way I'm going to be able to keep this a secret with HER around.

Why?  
Why??  
WHY???

**Thursday October 18 2001**

I found out why.  
She's giving me goddess lessons.  
In too much shock to write. More later.

**Friday October 19 2001**

Goddess lessons.  
I'm not kidding. I have to go straight from my last class of the day or my extra flying lesson every day to goddess lessons at the Ritz with my grandmother.  
Ok, so if JK Rowling is God, how could this have happened?  
I mean it. Like, people always talk about how God doesn't ever give you more than you can handle, but I'm telling you right now, I cannot handle this. This is just _too much_! I _cannot_ go to goddess lessons everyday after school. Not with Grandmamma. I am seriously considering running away from school. Maybe I could go live with Harry's relatives. _That_ has _got_ to be better than _this_.  
Mum says I have no choice. Last night, after I got back, I went straight to Professor Dumbledore's office and asked him to do that thing to get my Mum's head in the fire, and when she popped in, I put my hands on my hips and looked at her like I look at Ron when he's being a prat and told her I wasn't doing it. No way. Nobody had told me anything about goddess lessons.  
And do you know what she said? She says I signed the compromise, so I'm obligated to attend goddess lessons as part of my duties as heir.  
I said then we are just going to have to revise the compromise, because there was nothing in there about me having to meet Grandmamma every day after school for any goddess lessons.  
But my Mum wouldn't even talk to me about it. She said she was late for a meeting with the Pope, and could we please talk about it later. And then while I was standing there talking about how unfair this all was, she smiles and pops her head out of the fireplace.  
I'm going to have a good look at that compromise tonight, because I don't recall it saying anything about goddess lessons.  
Here's how my first lesson' went, yesterday after school:  
So after Transfiguration, I left Harry and Ron and met Nick in the Entrance Hall and when I get into the limo I'm so confused because, hi, we're in Scotland and Grandmamma's in London, and then Nick asks me if I have my seat belt on and I say yes and then BANG the limo is suddenly in London!  
Gaaaah!  
So we drive up to the Ritz and I'm madly shoving my robes into my school bag because there are Muggles everywhere and the concierge looks at me funny because I'm in my Hogwarts uniform with Doc Martens on and there are all these posh people everywhere. Nick goes to talk to the concierge and then he (the concierge) is suddenly all polite and friendly and escorts me up to the penthouse, which is where Grandmamma is staying.  
I put my robes back on and waited for Grandmamma to come out of one of the gazillion rooms in the Penthouse. Let me tell you about this penthouse: it is very fancy.  
First of all, everything was white or gold. Not yellow gold, metal gold. The walls were edged in gold, there were portraits of Ancient Greek goddesses (relatives, no doubt) in gold frames, and gold vases holding white roses sitting on gilded side tables that matched the rest of the gilded furniture. They probably had to give it the once over with a Philosopher's Stone, there was that much gold. The floor was white marble (I guess gold tiling was too much) with creamy silk Persian rugs on it, there were white foofy chairs and cheis lounges, and then there were the roses, which made the whole place smell like Professor Trelawney's little hole in the sky.  
The penthouse at the Ritz is probably fancier than Buckingham Palace. I wouldn't be surprised if it was, too, because, after all, Grandmamma is a goddess and the Queen's just a queen.  
And just when I thought I was going to drown in white and goldness, out came Grandmamma, dressed completely in white, from the white silk scarf she had draped over the shoulders and he floaty white silk dress all the way to the sparkly rhinestones on her white silk mules.  
At least, I think they're rhinestones.  
So Grandmamma comes in off the terrace where she was standing, and the first thing she says to me is, Are those robes supposed to be clean? Why can't you stand up straight? What is wrong with your hair? Why have you not grown? Are you still biting your fingernails, Hermione? I thought we agreed you were going to give up that nasty habit.  
Only it sounded worse, because it was all in French. I suppose she knows I don't speak Greek (I never actually knew _she_ spoke it, but I suppose she does) and because English is apparently she will only speak in French.  
And then, as if that wasn't bad enough, she goes, in her creaky old cigaretty voice, Haven't you got a kiss for your Grandmamma, then?  
So I go up to her and kiss her on the cheek (which is very soft because she rubs Ambrosia Vaseline on her face every night before she goes to bed), and then when I start to pull away she grabs me, makes this funny scoffing noise and goes, _Pfui_! Have you forgotten _everything_ I thought you? and makes me kiss her on the other cheek too, because on the Continent and in SoHo that's how you say hello to people.  
So I kissed Grandmamma on the other cheek.  
Grandmamma said, when she felt we'd been affectionate enough, let's see if I have this right: your mother tells you that you are a Goddess of Mount Olympus, and you burst into tears. Why is this?  
All of a sudden, I got very tired. My Flying lesson on Thursday was really bad and I still had all these bruises from when I fell off. I had to sit down on one of the white foofy chairs, before I fell down.  
Oh Grandma, I said in English. I don't want to be a goddess, I just want to be Hermione Granger, a normal witch.  
Grandmamma said, Don't call me Grandma. It's vulgar. I am you Grandmamma. – as _if_ there is a difference – Speak French when you speak to me, English is common. Sit up straight in that chair. Do not drape your legs over the arm. You are not a normal witch, you are Hermione Athena Demeter Granger Acropolis, Goddess of Mount Olympus.  
That does _not_ sound any better the more I hear it.  
Then Grandmamma sat down in the foofy chair next to mine and said, Are you telling me you have no wish to assume your rightful place in the Heavens?  
Grandma – I mean, _oui_, Grandmamma, I sighed. Boy was I tired. You know as well as I do that I'm not goddess material, OK? So why are we even wasting our time?  
Grandmamma looked at me. I could tell she wanted to kill me, but probably couldn't figure out how to do it without getting blood on the white silk Persian rugs.  
You are heir to the Heavens of Mount Olympus, she said, in this totally serious voice, and you will take my daughter's place on the throne when she dies. This is how it is. There is no other way.  
Oh, boy.  
So I kind of went, Yeah, whatever, Grandmamma. Look, I got a lot of homework. Is this goddess thing going to take a lot of time?  
Grandmamma just looked at me again. It will take, she said, as long as it takes. I am not afraid to sacrifice my time – or even myself – for the good of the heavens.  
Whoa. This was getting way patriotic. And what is it with people willing to kill themselves to change me, huh? Am I _that_ much of a feak? I said.   
So then I stared at Grandmamma for a while, and she stared back at me, and I could hear the gilded grandfather clock tick-tocking away across the room, then Grandmamma broke the silence by saying, We will begin tomorrow. You will come here directly after school.  
Um, Grandma, I mean, mamma, I can't come directly after school. I'm flunking Flying, I have to go to review sessions every Monday, Wednesday and Friday after school.  
Grandmamma looked like she wanted to kill me again. You can not _fly_?  
I sighed.  
Then after that. No dawdling. Tomorrow you will not wear those robes. You are a goddess, not a common witch. And I _never_ again want to see those – those _army boots_ in my life. You will wear nylons and court shoes. You will style your hair, apply lipstick and paint your fingernails – what's left of them, anyway.  
My mouth fell open. _Makeup_? I have to wear _makeup_? I don't wear makeup!  
And close your mouth, Grandmamma barked. It is uncouth to let it hang open like that.  
I closed my mouth. Style my hair? Heels? Pantyhose? Makeup???  
Grandmamma stood up. Now I must dress for dinner with the Queen. Goodbye.  
I just sat there. Was she insane? Was she completely nuts? Did she have the slightest idea what she was asking me to do?  
Evidently she did, since the next thing I knew, Nick was standing there, and Grandmamma was gone.  
Honestly. Pantyhose? To school? I mean, the only girls who wear pantyhose to school are girls like Pansy Parkinson, and Fleur Delacour, and 7th Years, and people like that. You know. Show-offs. None of _my_ friends wear pantyhose. Not even Lav and Pav.  
And, I might add, none of my friends wear lipstick or nail polish or heels or do their hair. Not for _school_ anyway.  
But what choice did I have? Grandmamma totally scared me. I couldn't NOT do what she said.  
So what I did was, I made Nick take me to Marks and Spencer's before we went back to Hogwarts, because I don't _own_ lipstick and pantyhose and there was no way I was going to ask Lavender if I could borrow her Lip Smacker.  
When the limo pulled in front of the great oak doors I was still sitting in the back in a daze. That had been the most insane afternoon I'd had ever.  
But today had to be worse.  
This morning I braided my hair and thought it actually looked sort of decent and came up with what at the time seemed like an ingenious plan to get changed after my flying lesson.  
The whole day Ron kept saying I looked silly and that I should have just kept my hair out because it looks fine like normally – I'm telling you, he's finally lost it, cracked, gone mental – and Pansy Parkinson kept pulling on my braid and I just couldn't do anything about it. She's just so _mean_.  
And after my Flying session I went to the girls' change rooms and made sure no one was around and took off my robes so I just had on the Muggle part of my uniform – pleated skirt, white blouse, house tie – and put on my new panty hose and loafers and lip-gloss. I thought I was pretty smart to get changed outside the castle so no one would see me. Who's be hanging around outside on a Friday afternoon? Everyone is always just lazing about in their common rooms.  
But I'd forgotten about stupid boys who don't think about anything except Quidditch who come down to the Quidditch pitch on Friday afternoons to do extra training.  
Because when I came out of the girls' change rooms I ran right into Ron, who was walking by with Harry, Fred and George.  
Blimey, Hermione, he said, as I scrambled around trying to pick up all the stuff I'd dropped – like my robes and my Docs and stuff – when I bumped into him. What happened to _you_?  
I thought he meant why was I out there so late. You know, I'm flunking Flying so I have to meet with Madam Hoo –   
I know _that_. Ron held up the pot of lip-gloss that had exploded out of my bag. I mean what's with the war-paint?  
I took it way from him. Nothing. Don't tell Ginny.  
Don't tell Ginny what? I stood up, and he noticed the pantyhose. Merlin's beard, Hermione. Where are _you_ going?  
Must I continually be forced to lie all the time? I really wished he would go away. Plus by this stage, Harry and the twins where staring at my like I was some new kind of racing broom, or something. It was making me pretty uncomfortable.  
_Nobody_ goes _nowhere_ looking like _that_. Ron shifted his broom from one hand to the other, then got this funny look on his face. Hermione, are you going on a _date_?  
_What_? No, I'm not going on a date! I was completely shocked at the idea. A _date_? _Me_? I am so sure! I have to meet my grandmother.  
Ron didn't look like as if he believed me. And do you usually wear lip-gloss and pantyhose to meet your grandmother?  
I heard some discrete coughing, and looked over to see Nick, waiting for me.  
I guess I could have stood there and explained that my grandmother had threatened me with bodily harm (well, practically) if I didn't wear make-up and nylons to meet her. But I sort of didn't think he'd believe me. So I said, Look, don't tell Ginny, OK?  
Then I ran away.  
I knew I was dead meat. There was no way Ron wasn't going to tell his sister about seeing me coming out of the girls' change rooms dressed like Pansy Parkinson. No way.  
And Grandmamma's was HORRIBLE. She said the lip-gloss I had on made me look like a _poulet_. At least that's what I thought she said, and couldn't figure out why she thought I looked like a chicken. But just now I looked up poulet in my French-English dictionary, and it turns out _poulet_ can also mean prostitute! My grandmother called me a hooker!  
Honestly! Whatever happened to nice grandmothers, who bake brownies for you and tell you how precious you are? It's just my luck I get one who wears jewelled shoes and tells me _I_ look like hooker!  
_And_ she said that the panty hose I had on where the wrong colour. How could they be the wrong colour? They're pantyhose colour! Then she made me practice sitting down so my underwear didn't show for like two hours and learn the basic pronunciation of Ancient Greek vowel sounds.  
And then she tied me to a chair and made me eat dinner using like fifty different items of cutlery while I couldn't lean forward and told me that even though I am a strict vegetarian I'd have to eat whatever my host put on my plate at big godly dinners, or I'd offend people and cause an inter-heavenly incident.  
After we'd gone over Ancient Greek history up to 500 BC for another hour, Grandmamma said she had to go an take a bath, since she's having dinner tonight with some archbishop. She told me to be at the Ritz tomorrow no later than ten o'clock. A.M. 10a.m.!  
Grandmamma, I said. Tomorrow is Saturday.  
I know it.  
But Grandmamma, I said, Tomorrow I promised to go down to Hogsmeade to help my friend Ginny confront the owners of Honeydukes about their unfair pricing policies.  
The other day Ginny was in Honeydukes getting some sugar quills, and Mandy Brocklehurst, who's in Ravenclaw, in front of Ginny in the line bought the same thing. But Mrs Honeyduke charged her (Ginny) _five whole Knuts more_ than Mandy Brocklehurst for the same product. Ginny found out today that the Honeydukes where in Ravenclaw when they were at Hogwarts and that they give significant discounts to students in Ravenclaw but not to Gryffindor, Hufflepuff or Slytherin students.  
And when Ginny complained, Mrs Honeyduke acted like she was deaf, even though she must be able to hear, or why else would the wizard radio behind the counter always be tuned to WWN?  
Ginny had decided to go down to Honeydukes tomorrow and ask Mr and Mrs Honeyduke about their blatantly preferential treatment of Ravenclaw students, and then write a letter to the editor of the Hogsmeade Times, maybe even the Daily Prophet, and demand an end to this outrage. She is calling for a school-wide boycott of Honeydukes.  
Grandmamma asked me which was more important, arguing over the price of sweets or learning how to take my place in the heavens where I will be looking out for the well being of hundreds of thousands of people.  
I guess the well being of hundreds of thousands of people is more important than the price of sugar quills. The thing is, I think Ginny's making a big deal about five Knuts. But Ginny says it's the principle of the thing, and that maybe if people had made a big deal about how Tom Riddle's dad left his mother maybe he would never have become You-Know-Who.  
I don't know. The Honeydukes aren't exactly Death Eaters. They're very nice to their House-Elf, Lotty, and they even give her a day off every month.  
Maybe I'm not too sorry about missing the confrontation' tomorrow.  
When I got back, I tried to find Ginny to tell her I can't go tomorrow, but she was getting Charms tutoring from Professor Flitwick, so I snuck up to my dorm room because I wanted to avoid Ron and Harry after this afternoon's _incident_.  
I'll tell Ginny I can't go tomorrow, and try to figure out another lie, this time to explain why my grandmother in is London.  
I wonder what Ginny's going to say when Ron tells her about the pantyhose.  
I hate my life.

Continued in Part Four...

Oh, and *shameless plug* while you're waiting, I'd like to invite you to read this other story I wrote, a bit of an epic R/Hr called "**Complicated**." It's actually got an original plot (hah hah) with a few twists, a few turns, a handful of surprises, a liberal amount of fluff and a _whole_ lot of angst... and apparently it's rather good... the reviewers' words, not mine (tee hee) and honestly, they can't _all_ be insane, and I certainly don't have the cash to have been able to bribe them with. I've heard you should bring tissues if you're emotional.


	4. Part Four

Disclaimer:  
Everything you recognise from Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling (aka _The Goddess_ – a real one)  
Everything you recognise from The Princess Diaries belongs to Meg Cabot  
I own nothing :o)

Author's Note: (aka Author's _Rants_)  
Whoopie!!! I didn't get any more flames! I even had one flamer come crawling back heh heh heh ;o) I guess I finally got my message though ::big grin:: The funniest thing though, would have to be that someone said the best part of this fic was my A/Ns heh heh ::lmao:: ;o) I should do what just about every band and recording artist out there seems to be doing at the moment and release a Best Of or Greatest Hits fic of just my A/Ns tee hee hee!  
To those who are curious, I had several people ask me, the idea for this just came to me several weeks ago while I was _studying_ for my Uni entrance exams I'd randomly picked up The Princess Dairies and found it to be one of just 5 books currently in existence which I can read over and over and enjoy like it was the first time the other 4 happen to be written by JK Rowling it just seemed like they could merge almost perfectly together, and the rest is history :o)  
Hmmm, I tried to keep it short this time well, not a bad effort (after I'd moved half of it – the thank yous to all the wonderful reviewers – to the end!! Heh heh) don't you think? Oh, and sorry this took a while, I just suddenly found myself with this urge to write fluffy-angst in the last few days, (gee, how on _Earth_ did that happen??) and got side-tracked hee hee! Enjoy! :o)  
Love always, Squin – The Queen of Author's Notes

* * *

**The Goddess Diaries - Part Four**

**Saturday October 20 2001, 9:30am**

So I was right: Ginny _does_ think the reason I'm not going to Hogsmeade today is because I'm against her boycott of the Honeydukes and her crusade to rid the magical community of sectarianism.  
I told her it wasn't true, that I have to spend the day with my grandmother. But guess what? She doesn't believe me. The one time I tell the truth, and she doesn't believe me!  
Ginny says that if I really wanted to get out of spending the day with Grandmamma, I could, but because I'm so co-dependent, I can't say no to anyone. Which doesn't even make sense, since obviously I'm saying no to _her_. When I pointed that out to Ginny, though, she just got madder. I can't say no to my grandmother, since she came to England on a holiday to try and come to terms with the death of her only son and as I'm her only grandchild I have to be with her and since she's like one-hundred-and-sixty-five years old, and she's going to die soon, if there's any justice at all in the world.  
Besides, you don't know my grandmother, I said. You don't say no to my grandmother.  
Then Ginny went, No, I don't know you grandmother, do I, Hermione? Isn't that curious, considering the fact that you know all _my_ grandparents – The Weasleys had the _whole family_ over for dinner over the summer, and I'm not kidding, they could start their own country. – And yet I haven't met any of _yours_.  
Well, of course, the reason for _that_ is that my Dad's parents are, like, total farmers who live in Cornwall. My Dad's parents are _afraid_ to come to London. Hey, I'm really confused, are they wizards? Is my house connected to the Floo Network? Oh, except I guess I won't be living in my house anymore I hope the Palace in Athens is connected to the Floo Network oh, yeah, I think it is.  
Anyway, Grandpa and Grandma Granger don't make it out of Cornwall much.  
And the reason I'd never intoduce Ginny to Grandmamma Acropolis is because Grandmamma Acropolis hates children. And I can't introduce her now, because then Ginny would find out that I'm a Goddess of Mount Olympus and you can bet I'll never hear the end of _that_. She'd probably want to interview me or something, for her newspaper that she said she's going to start up, _Ginny Tells It Like It Is_. That's all I need: my name plastered across parchment being delivered up and down the country with the daily owl post. God, I mean, Merlin, it would be worse than last time, and I quite like my hands when they aren't covered in boobertuber pus.  
So we were sitting at breakfast and I was telling Ginny this – about how I had to go out with my grandmother, not about my being a goddess, of course – and she sat across from me with her face all red in the way it goes red when she gets mad and finally she just goes, Oh, fine. Well help me write the article tonight, then, and got up and left without finishing her toast.  
Honestly.  
Well, at least Ron didn't tell her about the lip-gloss and pantyhose. _That_ would really have made her mad. She never would have believed that I was only going to my grandmother's.  
No way.  
Harry and Ron didn't sit near us at breakfast, but Ron kept looking over at me with this really odd expression on his face. Harry was staring off at the Ravenclaw table. Gee, I wonder why.  
Poor Ginny.  
Grandmamma told me that for today, I don't have to wear lip-gloss or pantyhose. She said I could wear anything I wanted. So I'm wearing my overalls and my Docs. I know she hates them, but hey, she said anything I wanted.  
Hee hee hee.  
Oops, gotta go. Nick's here.

**Later on Saturday**

I can never go to classes again. I can never go _anywhere_ again. I can never leave this four-poster bed with the curtains sealed shut, ever, ever again.  
You won't believe what she did to me. _I_ can't believe what she did to me. I can't believe my Mum _let_ her do this to me.  
Well, she's going to pay. Mum's totally paying for this, and mean BIG. As soon as I got to the common room (after I'd Summoned my hooded cloak from my room so I could sneak back into the castle without being seen – luckily most people are in Hogsmeade so no one saw me), I marched straight over to the fire and threw in some head-in-the-fireplace dust and when Mum showed I said, You are paying for this. Big-time.  
Who says I have a fear of confrontation?  
She totally tried to get out of it, going, What do you mean? Hermione, I think you look beautiful. I like your hair. It's so straight.  
Gee, I wonder why? Maybe because her mother met Nick and me in the lobby of the Ritz as soon as we'd turned the car over to the valet, and just pointed at the door. Just pointed at the door again and said, On y va, which in English means, Let's go.  
Let's go where? I asked, all innocently (this was this morning, remember, back when I was still innocent).  
Chez Paolo, Grandmamma said. Chez Paolo means Paul's house. So I thought we were going to meet one of her friends, maybe for brunch or something, and I thought, huh, cool, field trip. Maybe these goddess lessons won't be so bad.  
But when we got there, Chez Paolo didn't turn out to be a house. It was this building in this really posh part of London that looked like a hospital. I thought maybe Grandmamma was going to get some plastic surgery, or something, done, which really annoyed me, because, I mean, why drag me along?  
Boy, was I ever wrong! Paolo isn't a doctor. I doubt he's even been to University. Paolo is a _stylist_! Worse, he styles _people_! I'm serious. He takes unfashionable, frumpy people like me and makes them stylish – for a _living_. And Grandmamma got him to do that to _me_! _Me_!! Like it's bad enough that no one want to invite me to the Halloween Ball – which, I might add, is in one week today – she has to tell some guy names _Paolo_ that?  
What kind of a name is Paolo, anyway? I mean, this is England, for Merlin's sake! YOUR NAME IS PAUL!!!  
That's what I wanted to scream at him. But of course, I couldn't. I mean, it wasn't Paolo's fault my grandmother dragged me there. And as he pointed out to me, he only made time for me in his incredibly busy schedule because Grandmamma told him it was this big emergency.  
Queen Mab, how embarrassing. _I'm_ a fashion emergency.  
Anyway, I was plenty peeved at Grandmamma, but I couldn't start yelling at her right there in front of Paolo. She totally knew it too. She just sat there on this velvet couch sipping something so alcoholic that I could smell it from the other side of the room even with all the hair spray fumes, reading _Witch Weekly_.  
Meanwhile, two witches who were dressed like Rita – bloody – Skeeter pushed me into this big pouffy chair and Paolo was picking up chunks of my hair and making this face and going, all sadly, I have never seen this much hair in my entire life.  
And for the next two hours I had my hair slathered in Sleakeasy Permanent and now my hair's not bushy anymore.  
Did I mention that I'm no longer a dishwater blonde? No. Well, I'm just plain blonde, now.  
And Paolo didn't stop there. Oh no. I now have fingernails. I am not kidding. For the first time in my life, I have fingernails. They're completely fake, but I have them. And it looks like I'll have them for awhile: I already tried to one off and it HURT. What kind of Dark Magic Adhesive Charm did that manicurist use, anyway?  
You might be wondering why – if I didn't want to have all my hair turned into silk and dyed yellow, and fake fingernails stuck on over my real, stumpy fingernails – I let them do all that.  
I'm sort of wondering myself. I mean, I know I have a fear of confrontation. So it wasn't like I was going to throw down my glass of pumpkin juice and say, OK, stop making a fuss of me, right now! I mean, Grandmamma would have _Avada Kedavra_-ed me on the spot.  
And it is sort of hard when all these beautiful, fashionable people are telling you how good you'd look in _this_ and how much _that_ would bring out your cheekbones, to remember that you're a feminist and a magical creatures' rights activist and proof that women with intelligence are capable of doing anything. I mean, I didn't want to hurt their feelings, or cause a scene, or anything like that.  
And I kept telling myself, She's only doing this because she loves you. My grandmother, I mean. I know she probably wasn't doing it for that reason – I don't think Grandmamma loves me any more than I love her – but I _told_ myself that anyway.  
I told myself that after we left Paolo's, and went to Bond Street, where Grandmamma bought me clothes that cost as much as my entire booklist for seven years at Hogwarts. I told myself that when she took me to Diagon Ally and brought me a broomstick that I will never be able to ride. A Nimbus 3000.  
I'm not even kidding. _No one_ on any of the house Quidditch teams owns a _Nimbus 3000_. Not even Harry or Draco Malfoy. What on Earth am _I_ supposed to do with one? Maybe I can lend it to Ron.  
I did tell Grandmamma that I would never ever need a Nimbus 3000 but she just waved at me. Like, Go on, go on. You tell such amusing stories.  
Well, I for one will not stand for it. There isn't a sqaure centimetre of me that hasn't been pinched, cut, filed, painted, blow dried or moisturised. I even have fingernails.  
But I am not happy. I am not one bit happy. _Grandmamma_ is happy. _Grandmamma_ is head-over-heels happy about how I look. Because I don't look a thing like Hermione Granger. Hermione Granger never had fingernails. Hermione Granger does not have straight hair. Hermione Granger never had blonde highlights. Hermione Granger never wore make-up or Prada shoes or Gucci skirts. I don't even know who I am anymore. It certainly isn't Hermione Granger.  
_She's turning me into someone else._  
So I stood in front of my mother's head in the fireplace, looking like a _veela_ with my new hair, for crying out loud, and I let her have it.  
First she makes me wear lipstick. Then she tells me the lipstick makes me look like a hooker. Then she gives me sitting lessons. Then she has all my hair dyed a different colour and makes someone glue tiny surfboards to my nails, buys me a broomstick that cost as much as half the books in the Hogwarts library and clothes that make me look a like a veela.  
Well, Mum, I'm sorry, but I'm not a veela, and I never will be, no matter how much Granadmama dresses me up like one. I'm not going to prance around like I own the world, complaining about everything because I'm too good for it and making boys lose their brains when they see me. That's Fleur Delacour. That's not me!  
my Mum said, in her Now-Lets-Be-Reasonable voice. Nobody is asking you to be a veela.  
Grandmamma is!  
Your grandmother is just trying to prepare you, Hermione.  
Prepare me for what? I can't go to school looking like this, you know, I yelled.  
My Mum looked kind of confused. Why not?  
Oh JK Rowling. Why me?  
I said, as patiently as I could, I don't want anyone at school finding out that I'm a Goddess of Mount Olympus!  
Mum shook her head. Hermione, honey, they're going to find out sometime.  
I don't see how. See, I have it all worked out: I'll only be a goddess in Greece, and since the chances of anybody I know from school going to Mount Olympus are, like, none, no one here will ever find out, so I'm totally safe from being branded a freak.  
My Mum sighed when I told her all this. And you wouldn't believe what she said next.  
How much?  
I was shocked. So was my Dad.  
I heard him say from their side of the fireplace, but my Mum kept looking at me.  
I'm serious, Phillip, she said. I can see the compromise is getting us nowhere. The only solution in matters like these is cold, hard cash. So how much do I have to pay you, Hermione, to let your mother turn you into a goddess?  
I stood there and gaped at her.  
Consider it a job, my Mum said, this learning how to be a goddess business. I will pay your salary. Now, how much do you want?  
I started yelling about personal integrity and how I refused to sell my soul to the company store, that kind of thing.  
My mum sighed again and went, Hermione, I will donate one hundred Galleons a day, in your name, to – what is it? Oh yes – _Spew_, so you can save all the house elves you want, if you will make my mother happy by letting her turn you into a goddess.  
Well.  
That's an entirely different matter. It would be one thing if she were paying _me_ to have my hair colour magically altered. But paying one hundred Galleons a day to S.P.E.W.? That's 36,500 Galleons per year! I could pay the salaries of all the house elves myself!  
This is a million times better than nagging people to buy badges that they never wear!

By the way, Mum, it's S–P–E–W.

**Even later on Saturday**

Well, I don't know who Ginny Weasley thinks she is, but I sure know what she isn't: my friend. I don't think anyone who was my friend would be as mean to be was Ginny was tonight. I couldn't believe it. And all because of my _hair_!  
I guess I could understand it if Ginny was mad at me about something that mattered. Like not going to Hogsmeade to confront the Honeydukes. She thinks SugarQuill-Gate – that's what she's calling it – is the most important cause she will ever fight for. I think it's kind of stupid. Who cares about five Knuts anyway? But Ginny's all, We're going to break the cycle of house-ism that has been rampant in marginalizing Hogwarts' students for ten centuries.  
Whatever. All I know is, I came out of my dorm room to put my stupid new broom in the stupid broom shed and forgot my stupid cloak and walked into the stupid common room just as Ginny was climbing through the portrait hole, and Ginny took one look at my new hair and was like, Merlin's beard, what happened to you?  
Like I had sprouted little tentacles all over my face, like Crabbe did when Harry had hit him with the Furnunulus Curse and George has used the Jelly-Legs Jinx on him at the same time on the Hogwarts Express at the end of last year.  
OK, I knew people were going to freak when and stuff when they saw my hair. I totally washed it before I came down, and got all the mousse and goop out of it. Plus I took of all the make-up Paolo had slathered on me, and put on my overalls and my Docs. I really thought, except for my hair, I looked mostly normal. In fact, I kind of thought maybe I looked good – for me, I mean.  
But I guess Ginny didn't think so.  
I tired to be causal, like it was no big deal. Which it isn't, by the way. It wasn't as if I'd had breast implants, or had the Dark Mark tattooed on my arm, or something.  
I said, twirling my Nimbus 3000 around on the end of the handle. Well, my grandmother made me go see this guy Paolo, and he –   
But Ginny wouldn't even let me finish. She was in this state of shock. She went, Your hair is the same colour as Pansy Parkinson's.  
I said. I know.  
What's that on your _fingers_? Are those fake fingernails? Pansy has those too! She stared at me all bug-eyed. Oh dear Merlin, Hermione. You're turning into Pansy Parkinson!  
Now, that kind of peeved me off. I mean, in the first place, I am _not_ turning into Pansy Parkinson. In the second place, even if I am, Ginny's the one always going on about how stupid people are, for not seeing that it doesn't matter what anybody looks like: what matters is what's going on on the inside.  
So I stood there in the common room, with Fred and George staring at me and my broomstick with their tongues hanging out (and I _really_ hope they were only drooling over the broomstick), going, It wasn't me, it was my grandmother. I had to –   
What do you mean you had to? Ginny got this really crabby look on her face. It was the same look she gets when she sees Cho Chang in the corridors.  
What are you? she wanted to know. Completely passive? You're mute, or something? Unable to say the word no? You know, Hermione, we really need to work on your assertiveness. You seem to have real issues with your grandmother. I mean, you certainly didn't seem to have any trouble saying no to _me_. I could have really used your help today, with the Honeydukes, and you totally let me down. But you've got no problem letting your grandmother slime-up all your hair and dye it yellow –   
OK, now keep in mind that I'd just spent the whole day hearing how bad I looked – at least, until Paolo got ahold of me, and made me look like Pansy Parkinson. Now I had to hear that there was something wrong with my personality, too.  
So I cracked. I said, Ginny, _shut up_.  
I have never told Ginny to shut up before. Not ever. I don't think I have ever told anyone to shut up before. It's just not something I do. (Oh no, wait, I tell Ron to shut up all the time. But he doesn't really count, and he deserves it for acting like a prat all the time. But usually I don't tell people to shut up.) I never had fingernails before. They sort of made me feel strong. I mean, really, why was Ginny _always_ telling me what to do?  
Unfortunately, right as I was telling Ginny to shut up, Ron and Harry walked into the common room. Thank Merlin Ron was wearing a shirt. (Why did I just write that? He had no reason to be _not_ wearing a shirt, did he? Who cares if he was wearing a shirt or not, right?)  
Anyway.  
said Ron, backing up. I wasn't sure if he said whoa and backed up because of what I said, or my broomstick, or how I looked.  
Ginny said. _What_ did you just say to me? I could almost feel the heat radiating off her, that's how red she was by then.  
I totally wanted to back down. But I didn't because I knew she was right: I _do_ have problems being unassertive.  
So instead I said, I'm tired of you putting me down all the time. All day long, my Mum and Dad and grandmother and teachers are telling me what to do. I don't need my _friends_ getting on my case too.  
Ron said, again. This time I knew it was because of what I said. Harry didn't say anything, he must have been standing there planning The Official Nimbus 3000 Fan club, that's what his ogling looked like.  
said Ginny, her eyes getting all narrow, is your _problem_?  
I went, You know what? I don't have a problem. _You're_ the one with the problem. You seem to have a big problem with me. Well, you know what? I'm going to solve your problem for you. I'm leaving. I never wanted to help you with your stupid SugarQuill-Gate story anyway. The Honeydukes are nice people. They haven't done anything wrong. I don't see why you have to pick on them. And – I said this as I stormed past and pushed the portrait hole open – my hair is _not_ yellow.  
Then I left. I sort of slammed the portrait behind me, too.  
While I was heading downstairs to go outside, I sort of thought Ginny might come out and apologise to me.  
But she didn't.  
After I'd put my broom away I came straight back to Gryffindor while everyone else was at dinner, took a bath, and got into bed with my _Numerology and Grammatica_ book and Crookshanks, who's the only person who likes me the way that I am right now. I was thinking Ginny might come up and knock on my door to apologize, but so far she hasn't.  
Well, I'm not apologizing until she does.  
And you know what? I looked in the mirror a minute ago, and my hair doesn't look that bad.

**Saturday, October 20 2001, 11:59pm**

She still hasn't come to see me.

**Sunday October 21 2001**

Oh my Mother. Oh Queen Mab. Oh dear Merlin. I am so embarrassed. I wish could disappear. You will never believe what happened.  
I went down to the common room this morning, and no one was around. I was really _really_ upset about what happened last night, and I just had to talk to someone, so I thought I'd go talk to Harry and Ron. I mean, they'd been my best friends since before I knew Ginny, right?  
So I went up to the boys' tower, and knocked on the door that said Fifth Years.  
I wish I hadn't. I wish I was still friends with Ginny so I wouldn't have had to talk to Harry and Ron. I wish I had never chosen to be assertive last night so I wouldn't be fighting with Ginny so I wouldn't have had to talk to Harry and Ron.  
I wish I had at _least_ looked down at the floor and noticed the puddles of footprints.  
And ran away.  
Because when I knocked on the door, Ron opened it.  
And his hair was wet! And he wasn't wearing a shirt!! And he was only wearing a TOWEL _wrapped around his waist_!!!  
I stood there and stared at him. He stood there and stared at me.  
Then he went REALLY red – I don't know if I was as red as he was, because I couldn't see my face, but I could _feel_ my face getting seriously hot. Like BURNING – I'm talking REALLY _REALLY_ red and he looked at me some more and then he slammed the door in my face!  
I stood there staring at the sign on the door for a while and tried to start breathing again.  
And _then_ I ran away.  
How am I ever going to look at him again without imaging him with water dripping down his chest while wearing nothing but a _towel_ wrapped around his waist?????????  
This is so horrible. I wish I could talk to Ginny, but I guess we are fighting.

Continued in Part Five...

* * *

A big THANK YOU to all the wonderful new reviewers since last time: Deana, Poppyseed, bluegreen13, Kemu, Jace, Xaviera Xylira, Jules, Whats_their_name, Fleur Hermione Potter, janmmci, Silver ~ Ice, Chrissy, Mary Potter, Aphrodite Black, Queen Kate, hermione, Rue, Barbara Fett, G*Ness, and also

Meriadoc -- I know I pay out on Harry a bit, but hey, he's got his own books, a movie, a million websites and a ff.net fandom with over 20,000 stories in it named after him, he doesn't _always_ have to be the hero, you know?

hermione elizabeth potter -- sorry hun, but R/Hr forever! – _Princess Leia & Han Solo_, anyone?? Of _course_ she ends up with the sidekick! That's how it works!! heh heh (see B Bennett's A Certain Point of View) – That was the whole point of Mia falling for her best friend's brother working for this fic in the immortal words of *NSync ::gag:: which I will slightly manipulate for my purposes, _It's gonna be Ron_ ;o)

Agent 99 -- I can totally understand this not being your cup of tea, for I too see it as more of a _can of Coke_ – not really good for anything except being sweet and fun and enjoyable ;o) But stay tuned for some _Kick-Ass! Hermione_, I assure you, she is just waiting patiently for me to type her up!

Gothic Valley Girl -- Sirius! Oh that's a cool idea! But I can't think of how to make it work, and I've already figured out the whole plot anyway (well, Meg Cabot figured it out for me) and he can't fit ::sob::

She's a Star -- ::cough cough:: heh heh just kidding – welcome to the fold ;o) You weren't really that mean, it's cool. Glad you read the A/N ;o)

Bronze -- mmm just imagine young Mr Tom I am hot Riddle in a suit!!! ::drool:: I like men with power so sue me bring it on! It can be work experince – I'll be doing Law @ uni next year, heh heh heh ;o)

::MWAH!:: to everyone! You guys have no idea how glad I am that people actually like this!! ::hugs::


	5. Part Five

Disclaimer:  
Everything you recognise from Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling (aka _The Goddess_ – a real one)  
Everything you recognise from The Princess Diaries belongs to Meg Cabot  
I own nothing :o)

Author's Note:  
Oh. My. Hermione. Wow. WOW. WOW!! Never in my _wildest dreams_ did I imagine ever writing a fic that got over 100 reviews! From the bottom of my heart I want to thank _everyone_ who has read and enjoyed this, because if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be able to have to fun of writing it!  
I even wanna thank the flamers, because guys, without you, I couldn't do all my fun author's notes! ;o)  
flamer: _'total brainiac'? 'Freak-o-meter' this is HERMIONE talking here, since when has she been an american cheerleading teen queen? she is british! this sounds like something out of a cheesey teenage magazine._  
squin: _[puts down pom-poms, sticks out silicon chest, twirls bleached blonde hair around fingers] Well, like, totally DUH!_  
I guess some people just wouldn't get the point of a joke even if they sat on a naked echidna who danced around wearing a too thin-bottomed cauldron on its head (or a porcupine, I suppose, for all you non-Aussies who mightn't know what an echidna is)  
Oh, and someone asked me what the difference between gods and goddesses and normal witches and wizards were. Well  
::long pause as Squin stares at the screen with a rather blank expression on her face:: Er uh um I DON'T KNOW!!! That's sort of going _way_ deeper into this whole fic than I had expected I tried to make something up, but it is _very_ lame, rather irrelevant and fully redundant so please, feel free to ignore it. Does it really matter, anyway? Good, I didn't think so either.  
Another thing, if you've been reading this chapter-by-chapter, you might not know that I changed a bit in Part 2 so that Hermione has her own room (because she's a Prefect now) and isn't sharing with Lavender and Parvati anymore. All cool? Cool.  
Ron's poem is NOT mine, it's the funky Meg Cabot's – like most of this – I fliched it straight out of the book and just changed a few words, as per usual, but didn't think Hermione would write it so I made Ron write it. (I _did_ write the Ode to Flying, tho!)  
I haven't been able to sleep the last couple of nights all I could think of was _Wet!Ron_. Anyone interested in forming a support group, Wet!Ron Anonymous, please drop me a line. Remember: SMART GIRLS CHOOSE RON! – www.sugarquill.net   
And as promised, this chapter features _Kick-Ass!Hermione_ and she'll be around more often from now!  
Enjoy, everyone! :o) ::mwah::

**A HUGE big THANK YOU to Steve from The Harry Potter Lexicon – http://www.i2k.com/~svderark/lexicon/ – for the permission to use the notes from History of Magic (entry for Monday 22 October) which is from their HoM page (timeline_history_magic.html). You rock, HPL!  
**

* * *

The Goddess Diaries - Part Five

**Later on Sunday**

I've been hiding out in the library ALL day. Nobody else is here since it's Sunday, so I'm safe from seeing ANY of the Weasleys. Fred and George keep wanting to have a go on my broomstick. I'll let them, but only if they promise to stop giving me prank food, and they said they can't do that. Ginny has been totally avoiding me. I have been totally avoiding Ron.  
I love the library, true, but this is getting annoying.****

Reasons I should make up with Ginny:  
1. She's my best friend  
2. One of us has to be the bigger person and make the first move.  
3. She makes me laugh.  
4. Who else can I talk to?  
5. I miss her.****

Reasons I should not make up with Ginny:  
1. She's always telling me what to do.  
2. She thinks she knows everything. (Hmmm I think I know how Ron & Harry feel)  
3. Ginny is the one who started it, so she should be the one to apologize.  
4. I will never achieve self-actualization if I always back down from my convictions.  
5. What if I apologize and she STILL won't talk to me?????????

**Even later on Sunday**

Well. Ron came and found me in the library. He pulled up a chair and sat down next to me and he said he was sorry for slamming the door in my face this morning.  
I said that was ok. I didn't look him in the face when I said that.  
Then I said I was sorry I came up to his dorm, I know I shouldn't have, I just had to talk to someone about last night.  
said Ron. What happened to you last night? It's like you went mental, or something.  
Me? Mental???  
For you information, I did not go mental, I said. I just got tired of your sister always telling me what to do. Not that it's any of your business.  
What are you being so snotty about? Of course it's my business. I have to live with the both of you, don't I? said Ron.  
I got worried. Why? Is she talking about me?  
Ron goes, You could say that.  
I can't believe she's been talking about me. And you know she can't have been saying anything good.  
What's she saying? I asked.  
I thought it wasn't any of my business.  
I'm so glad I don't have a brother.  
It isn't. What's she saying about me?  
Ron said, That she doesn't know what's wrong with you these days, but ever since your Uncle died, you've been acting like a head case.  
I snorted in indignation. Me? A head case? What about her? She's the one who's always criticising me. I'm so sick of it!! If she wants to be my friend, what can't she just accept me the way I am???  
No need to yell, said Ron, all calmly.  
I'm not yelling!!! I hissed.  
So why is Madam Pince giving you the Evil Eye? – She was. – And besides, Ginny's not the only one criticising. She says you won't support her boycott of Honeydukes.  
I said, Well, she's right. I won't. It's stupid. Don't you think it's stupid.  
Ron sort of shrugged and said, Sure, it's stupid. Are you still flunking Flying?  
_ That_ was out of the blue.  
I said, I guess so. But considering the fact that Madam Hooch nearly fainted with delight when I took that silly broom down to the broom shed, I might scrape by with a D. Why?  
It was Ron's turn to snort. It's not a silly broom. It's better than Harry's!  
But _I_ don't need it. When my grandmother bought it for me, she told me that I would be a disgrace to – to the _family_ if I can't fly. It's so embarrassing.  
Now, why did I nearly tell him about the goddess thing? It would be all over school. I'd be a laughing stock. Not that I'm not already, but it would be worse. He doesn't know about the stupid Pureblood thing – not that it matters because it DOESN'T – either. Why did I almost tell Ron that?  
Well, you're top of the year in everything else, Hermione, you really shouldn't worry, it's only a course for this term anyway. It's hardly anything.  
I sighed a little bit. I suppose so. It still sort of annoys me. I totally expected him to start teasing me, and stuff, but he just sat there. So why'd you want to know whether or not I'm flunking Flying?  
Ron sort of cleared his throat a bit. Oh, well. Because I'm done with all the skills we have to learn this month, and thought, if you wanted, I could tutor you during Flying classes. He stopped and looked at me. If you wanted.  
Ron Weasley, offering to do something for me? I couldn't believe it. I nearly fell of my chair.  
I went, Wow, that would be great! Thanks!  
Ron pushed his chair out and got up and kind of coughed. Don't mention it. Hang in there, Hermione. I'll see you later.  
Yeah, bye. I was sort of in shock.  
And he left.  
Can you believe it? Wasn't that nice? I wonder what's got into him.  
I should definitely fight with Ginny more often.

**Even later on Sunday**

Just when I thought things were looking slightly up, I got an owl from Mum. She said she was sending Nick over to pick me up because she was coming over from Greece for the day or something and so she, and me and Grandmamma could have together dinner at the Ritz.  
Notice the invitation didn't include Dad.  
Mum didn't actually say he was sick, but I be he _is_.  
At least I got to avoid everyone at school again. People keep asking questions and stuff about why I keep leaving. If this lying thing keeps up, Grandmamma's going to have to pay for me to get a new nose, or something, when mine grows like Pinocchio's.  
The Ritz wasn't that bad this time. I guess the people there know who I am now – or at least, they know who Nick is – so they don't give me a hard time. Or maybe it was because I was wearing some of the posh clothes I got yesterday, not my Docs.  
Grandmamma and Mum were both in kind of bad moods. I don't know why. I guess they're not getting paid to spend time together, like I kind of am.  
Dinner was _so_ boring. Grandmamma went on and on about which fork to use with what and why, like on Friday. There were all these courses, and most of them were meat. One was fish, though, so I ate that, plus dessert, which was a big fancy tower of chocolate. Grandmamma tried to tell me again that I have to eat everything or I'd cause an inter-heavenly incident, blah blah blah blah blah. But I told her that I would have my staff explain to my hosts ahead of time that I don't eat meat, so not to serve any.  
Grandmamma looked kind of mad and Mum grinned into her wine glass.  
So to change the subject, I asked her what the point of having gods and goddesses were, and why they were different. Apparently we look after things like the weather and the environment and people stuff. We don't control it or make tornados to attack people stuff, but just make sure everything is OK.  
Normal people still have to deal with fate and all that, but we just help out in serious emergencies. Why don't _I_ get help? I'm having a rather serious emergency and have been having it for a over a week now. I guess it must be like those clauses were network employees can't enter competitions to win new cars and stuff that the networks put on during blockbuster movies and all that. There are heaps of other gods from other religions and stuff as well, so it's all kind of like Muggle monarchies who look after their own little countries.  
I still don't get it. But anyway.  
Grandmamma says tomorrow I'm going to learn more Greek, so that I will know how talk to oracles. They are priestesses whom people use to talk to _us_. I'm actually sort of excited.  
To date, I've made 200 Galleons for S.P.E.W. I'm probably going to go down in history as the girl who saved all the house elves.  
Ginny still isn't talking to me. I'm starting to think maybe I should go down to her dorm and talk to _her_. But what would I say? I didn't do anything. I mean, I know I told her to shut up, but that was only because she told me I was turning into Pansy Parkinson. I had every right to tell her to shut up.  
Or did I? Maybe nobody has a right to tell anybody to shut up. Maybe this is how wars get started, because someone tells someone else to shut up, and then no one will apologize.  
If this keeps up, who am I going to eat lunch with tomorrow? I can't sit with Harry or Ron, they'll just talk about Quidditch with Fred, George, Lee, Seamus and Dean. And it's totally not safe to sit with Gred and Forge at meal times.

**Monday October 22 2001, History of Magic**  
When I came down for breakfast this morning I looked for Ginny but all her 4thYear friends said she'd already eaten and left. Talk about holding a grudge.  
This is the longest fight we've ever had.  
Then as soon as I sat down, somebody shoved a petition in my face.__

Boycott Honeydukes!  
Sign below and take a stand against House discrimination!

I said I wouldn't sign it, and Harry, who was the person holding it, told me I was being a bit of a hypocrite if I expected everyone to support S.P.E.W. which even the house elves don't want anything to do with, but wouldn't just sign a measley petition for this.  
I told Harry that they have been conditioned for centuries and that five Knuts is hardly anything to compare with the plight of innocent creatures that are being treated as slaves.  
One thing you have to say for Ginny: she acts fast. The whole school is plastered with_ Boycott Honeydukes_ posters.  
The other thing you have to say about Ginny: when she's mad, she stays made. She is totally not speaking to me.  
I wish Professor Binns was alive. He's just _so_ boring. And coming from me, that's saying something.

1400s – With the coming of the Renaissance and the increasing reliance among Muggles on scientific reasoning, the break between the Wizarding and Muggle worlds became more and more complete. Each culture went on to create their own civilization: social structures, economies, governments, etc. Each borrowed a little from the other as the years went by but it became apparent that the Muggles had to be kept ignorant of the existence of their magical kin for their own good. Some Muggles persecuted their Magical neighbours; others tried to exploit magical power for their own gain and for quick fixes to their problems.

Oh Ron wants to write something.****

What to do during History of Magic  
By Ronald Weasley

O, what to do during HoM!  
The possibilities are limitless:  
There's drawing, and yawning,  
And portable Wizard Chess.

There's dozing and dreaming,  
And feeling confused.  
There's humming, and strumming,  
And looking bemused.

You can stare at the clock.  
You can hum a little song.  
I've tried just about everything  
To pass the time along.

BUT NOTHING WORKS!!!!!

Note to self: Make sure Ron NEVER EVER EVER reads this book.

**Later on Monday, before Flying**

So even if Ginny and I weren't in a fight, I wouldn't have been able to sit with her at lunch today. She's become the queen of the _cause célèbre_. All these people were clustered around the end of the Gryffindor Table where we usually sit. _Harry_ was sitting next to her where I usually sit.  
Ginny must be in heaven. She's always wanted to be worshipped by a Quidditch genius.  
Or maybe just Harry.  
So I was standing there with my stupid bag about to explode because I have just about every subject today, and I was like, Who am _I_ going to sit by? Ron wasn't there; he got into trouble for throwing paper planes in History of Magic (he'd _Wingardium Leviosa_-ed them so they actually flew) and had to do a lunchtime detention with Flich. Then I saw Lavender and Parvati sort of sitting at the other end of the table, just talking to themselves and looking at some divination magazine. There was a spare seat. I've hardly talked to them at all this year, since we don't share a room anymore or anything, but it's not like I hate them, and I hoped they didn't hate me.  
I walked over and pulled out the spare chair next to Parvati.  
Can I sit here? I asked.  
Parvati looked up from the magazine. She had an expression of total shock on her face. She looked at me, and then she looked at Lavender. When Parvati looked at Lavender, Lavender looked at me and then back at Parvati, and nodded.  
Parvati smiled really big at me. she said, laying down her magazine. Sit with us.  
I sat down. I felt kind of bad, seeing Parvati smile like that. Like maybe I should have asked to sit with them before. Or at least talked to them more when we slept in the same room for four years. I felt bad about how I'd _lived_ with them for so long and yet hardly knew them.  
Everyone sort of thinks they are silly, and I used to pay them out because they spent so much time on hair charms and divination stuff.  
I don't think divination is so freaky now, not that I'm _divinity_ myself.  
So the three of us sat there and talked about the Halloween Ball, which is this weekend. It wasn't their idea, by the way. It was Pansy Parkinson who'd suggested it. Good thing I never got around to hexing Lavender and Parvati, huh?  
I asked them if they had dates yet and they both got all giggly and said yes they did. Lavender's going with Seamus again and Dean just asked Parvati this morning.  
They asked me who I was going with and I looked down at my food and said no one.  
Lavender sort of gasped. I almost wanted to cry. And then Parvati goes, Hasn't Ron asked you yet? in this half shocked voice.  
Yet? Ha! As if. I told them about how last Monday Ron had announced that he's not going to the Ball because he thinks it's a stupid social event that doesn't even celebrate the true spirit of Halloween since it's on Saturday night, which is the 27th, and that's not actually Halloween.  
Then Lavender and Parvati gave each other this look and when I asked them what was wrong, they went, all nonchalantly, Oh, nothing.  
We were just finishing off desert, which was custard tart today, when this shadow fell over the back of me, and I looked up and there was Pansy Parkinson. She wasn't wearing her school robes, but she had on her Slytherin cheerleader uniform, a green-and-black pleated mini-skirt and a tight black sweater with a silver snake that was in the shape of a giant S across the front of it. I think she stuffs her pom-poms down her bra when she isn't using them. Otherwise, I don't see how her chest could stick out so much.  
Nice hair, Hermione, she said in her snotty voice. Who are you supposed to be? Buffy the Vampire Slayer?  
I looked past her. Draco Malfoy was standing there with Crabbe and Goyle and some of his other dumb jock friends. They weren't paying any attention to me and Pansy. They were talking about how they'd made a 1st Year do a detention for something _they_'d done.  
I wonder if Professor Snape knows.  
What do you call this colour, anyway? Pansy wanted to know. She touched the top of my head. Pus Yellow?  
Lavender piped up and said, It's more of a Honey Blonde, I think. I thought that was very nice of her, considering the fact that I'd never stood up against a bully for her.  
But Pansy didn't see the niceness of this gesture. Instead she asked, all innocently, Oh, is this a board meeting of Ditzy-Chicks Incorporated? _So_ sorry for interrupting.  
Lavender's blue eyes filled up with hurt. Parvati saw this and opened her mouth.  
Then a strange thing happened. I was sitting there, looking at the tears welling up in Lavender's eyes, and then the next thing I knew, I'd stood up, picked up a whole custard tart from the table and thrust it with all my might at the front of Pansy's sweater, saying, No, it isn't, because if it was, you'd be the C.E.O.  
Pansy looked down at the cream, custard and bits of pastry that were sticking to her chest. Draco Malfoy and the other jocks stopped talking and looked and Pansy's chest too. The noise level in the Great Hall plummeted to the quietest I've heard it. _Everyone_ was looking at the custard tart sticking to Pansy's chest. It was so quiet, I could hear Neville's toad Trevor breathing air bubbles in Neville's goblet.  
Then Pansy started to scream.  
You-you – I guess she couldn't think of a word bad enough to call me. You-you Look what you've done! Look what you've done to my sweater!  
I grabbed my bag. Come on, Lavender and Parvati, I said. I was still really mad, so my voice didn't shake or anything. Let's go somewhere a bit quieter.  
Lavender and Parvati, their eyes on the custard tart covering the _S_ on Pansy's chest, followed me.  
As the three of us walked pass the end of the table where Ginny and I usually sit, I saw Ginny staring at me with her mouth open. She had obviously seen the whole thing.  
Well, I guess she's going to have to change her diagnosis: I am _not_ unassertive. Not when I don't want to be.  
I was very glad that there was a staff meeting at lunchtime today, because otherwise I would have been in more trouble than after the _Norbert Incident_.  
And I'm not sure, but as Lavender and Parvati and I left the Great Hall, I thought I heard some applause coming from the Hufflepuff table.  
You know what? I think self-actualization might be right around the corner.

**Later on Monday**

Oh boy. I am in so much trouble. This hasn't happened to me since 1st Year!  
_I am sitting in Professor McGonagall's office!_  
That's right. I got sent to Professor McGonagall's office for assaulting Pansy Parkinson with a custard tart!  
I should have known she'd tell on me. She is such a big whiner.  
I'm kind of scared. I know I've been in trouble before, but we _had_ to get rid of Norbert. I've never actually _gotten caught_ for _assaulting_ anyone. Thank goodness none of the teachers found out about Draco Malfoy in 3rd Year. But the last time this happened – getting caught, I mean – I had that terrible detention in the Forbidden Forest Even thinking about it creeps me out.  
Anyway, when Professor Flitwick came out and spoke to Madam Hooch in Flying today, I never thought for one minute that he had to take _me_ out of class. Pansy wasn't there, thank Merlin, but most of the Slytherins kept shooting me way dirty looks.  
I was up on my broom with Ron flying next to me on his. He was showing me that the way I steer is all wrong. He says my main problem is my grip. Also that I'm not actually sitting on the broom properly. He says I should be gentler with the handle and just relax.  
Also, he says I seem to have trouble concentrating.  
But the reason I couldn't concentrate was that I had hardy ever been so close to a boy before! I mean, I realise that it's only Ron, and that I see him all the time, and he'd never like me anyway, because he's known me since we were eleven and I'm his best friend and his little sister's best friend and all – at least, I used to be.  
But he's still a boy, a _cute_ boy, even if he _is_ just Ron.  
I was really hard to pay attention to steering when I could smell this really nice clean boy smell coming from him, and this little voice in my head was going, Towel. Towel. Plus every once in a while he would reach over and put his hand over mine and push my handle over a little and go, No, like _this_, Hermione.  
Of course, I was also having trouble concentrating because I kept feeling like Ginny was looking up at us. The 4th Years had Care of Magical Creatures, so she was outside too. She wasn't looking, of course. Now that she's fighting the evil forces of discrimination in our village, she doesn't have time for little people like me. She was sitting by the paddock with all of her supporters while Hagrid was trying to calm down his new – which I _swear_ is part Chimera – plotting their next move in the Honeyduke Offensive. Harry had even gone down to help.  
May I point out that he was all over her? I couldn't believe it. He was sitting on the fence next to her with his arm holding onto the railing on the _other side_ of her.  
So I really shouldn't have worried that anybody was going to notice me and Ron. I mean, he certainly didn't have his arm around _me_. Although once, he came around on the other side of me to show me something and he sort of sat the other way on his broom so he was facing me, and his knee touched my knee. I nearly died at niceness of it all.  
And then Madam Hooch called out _my_ name and told me to come down.  
I wonder if I'm going to get expelled. Maybe if I get expelled I could go to a different school, where nobody knows that my hair used to be frizzy and a different colour and that these fingernails aren't really real. Greece is starting to sound really nice.

**From now on I will:**  
1. Think before I act.  
2. Try to be gracious, no matter how much I am provoked to act otherwise  
3. Tell the truth, except when doing so would hurt someone else's feelings.  
4. Stay as far away as possible from Pansy Parkinson.

Uh-oh. Professor McGonagall is here.

Continued in Part Six...

* * *

THANK YOU and I LOVE YOU to all the funky new reviewers since last time: Tiger Starr, Kiyone/Luna-P (100th Reviewer!!!), AngelDragonStar, Destiny Phoenix (I hope you feel better soon!), angels fall, *Mystery*Juice*2302* (no I liked your PD fic! It's cool!), whippy, Kacella, Bec, athena, Trista_Setsuna, Me, ~*Fleur*~ (I don't think you were ditzy at all! Thank you for being so nice, altho you've kinda given me a big head!!), Shankz, Panchan, Arcadia Silver (does the god thing really matter? Well, I tried!), mickey, slytherin godess, Hermione, ~*Luna*~ (it's all blonde), nuwandaforever (is that Dead Poet's Nuwanda? Man, I LOVE that movie! NUWANDA ROCKS!!!!), aquamanda, and Sailor_Chib (the diary thing's sort of the whole point. Well, actually is IS the whole point sorry) KEEP SMILING!! ::mwah::


	6. Part Six

Disclaimer:  
Everything you recognise from Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling (aka _The Goddess_ – a real one)  
Everything you recognise from The Princess Diaries belongs to Meg Cabot  
I own nothing :o)

Author's Notes/Rants:  
Well, having seen the movie last week (it was released on the 29th here – we suck), I just HAD to revise Ginny's List of Hot Guys (Part 1) to include Oliver Wood. Honestly, if Hermione's a goddess, Oliver is _nothing less_ than a GOD. ::drool:: I certainly won't be surprised when there is a sudden explosion of Sean Biggerstaff (oh, ruh-huh-heeeeeeeally? ::evil grin:: Please, excuse my sick mind) websites out in cyberspace. Er, does anyone know what actually happened in the scenes Wood was in? I was slightly preoccupied with those eyes that smile and man, THAT ACCENT!!! ::Five minutes later, once Squin has stopped hyperventilating:: And I'm telling ya, Tom Felton's gonna be a hottie (once he's finished with his orthodontic treatment), so take THAT everyone who doesn't believe that Draco is sexy! How CUTE were Ron & Hermione??? The dirt on your nose thing!! I was nearly peeing my pants! OMG, they did it _so well_, YAY! Go CC and WB! Hey, is it just me, or does Rupert Grint's smile remind anyone else of that divine Aussie, Heath Ledger's??? And don't even get me _started_ on Alan Rickman. I mean, he might be 55 or something, but _damn_. Hmmm Snape's only in his 30s Cool. (Don't mind me, I've just been reading _way_ too many of Strega Brava's _incredible_ stories ::grin::) Now they just have to cast Colin Firth as Sirius and Ewan McGreggor as Remus – or Hugh Jackman for either of those roles, he's already proved his canine/wolf-acting skills, too – and I will be one HAPPY chappy!! Uh I didn't mean to rant about the movie whoops. I'll stop now.  
Sorry I'm being so slow on this, I'm just slack. I did TWO CHAPTERS this time to make up for it!! Well, going now, toodles!

You're a little scary sometimes, you know that? Brilliant, but scary.  
– Ron to Hermione, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (Warner Bros.)

* * *

The Goddess Diaries - Part Six

**Later on Monday**

Well, I don't know what I'm going to do now. I have detention for a week, _plus_ Flying review, _plus_ goddess lessons with Grandmamma.  
I didn't get back until nine o'clock tonight. Something as _got_ to give.  
Mum is furious. She says she's going to sue the school. She says no one can give her daughter detention for defending the weak. I told her that Professor McGonagall can. She can do anything. She's the head of Gryffindor house. I lost 10 points, too.  
I can't say I really blame Professor McGonagall. I mean, it wasn't like I said that I was sorry, or anything. Professor McGonagall is a nice lady, but what could she do? I admitted I had done it. She told me I'd have to apologize to Pansy, and pay to have her sweater cleaned. I said I'd pay for the sweater but that I wouldn't apologize. Professor McGonagall looked at me over her square glasses and went, I beg your pardon, Hermione?  
I repeated that I wouldn't apologize. My heart was beating like crazy. I didn't want to make anybody mad, especially Professor McGonagall, who can be very scary, when she wants to. I tired to picture her as the cute little cat she turned into in 3rd Year when we were learning about Animagi, but it didn't work. She still scared me.  
Professor McGonagall didn't look mad, though. She looked concerned. I guess that's how educators are supposed to look. You know. Concerned about you. She went, Hermione, I must say, when Pansy came in here with her complaint, I was extremely surprised. It's usually Ginny Weasley I have to pull in here. I never expected I was going to have to pull _you_ in. Not for disciplinary reasons. Academic reasons, maybe. I understand you still aren't doing very well in Flying. But I've never known you to have a _bullying_ problem before. I really feel I must ask you, Hermione is everything all right?  
For a minute I just stared at her.  
Is everything all right? _Is everything all right_?  
Hmm, hold on a minute, let me see my parents have moved to another country; I'm flunking a subject on one of the most basic Wizarding skills there is; my best friend hates me; I'm fifteen years old and have never been kissed; and oh, I just found out I'm a Goddess of Mount Olympus.  
Oh, sure, I said to Professor McGonagall. Everything is fine.  
Are you certain, Hermione? Because I can't help wondering if this isn't all rooted in some problems you might be having. I'm here to listen, dear.  
Who did she think I was, anyway? _Pansy-Wansy_ Parkinson? Like I was going to sit there and tell her all my problems. Yeah, Professor McGonagall. On top of all that other stuff, my grandmother is in the country, and my mother is paying my 100 Galleons a day to go to London every afternoon to get lessons from her in how to be a goddess. Oh, and this weekend, I ran into my best friend, and all he was wearing was a towel. Anything else you want to know?  
Professor McGonagall said. I want you to know that you are a very special person. You have many wonderful qualities. There is no reason for you to feel threatened by Pansy Parkinson. None at all.  
Oh, OK. Just because she's the prettiest, most popular girl in my year, and she's going out with the handsomest, most popular boy in the school, you're right, Professor McGonagall. There's no reason for me to feel threatened by her. Especially since she puts me down every chance she gets and tries to humiliate me in public. Threatened? _Me_? Nah.  
You know, Hermione, Professor McGonagall said. I bet if you took the time to get to know Pansy, you would find she's really a very nice girl. A girl just like you.  
Right. Just like me.  
I was so upset, I actually told Grandmamma all about it at our oracle lesson. She was surprisingly sympathetic.  
When I was a girl your age, Grandmamma said, there was a girl just like this Pansy and my school. Her name was Medea. She sat behind me in Charms. Medea would take the end of my braid, and dip it in her inkwell, so that when I stood up, I got ink all over my robes. But the teacher would never believe that Medea did it on purpose.  
I was kind of impressed. That Medea had some guts. I never met anyone before who'd try to dis my grandmother. What did you do?  
Grandmamma let out this evil laugh. Oh, nothing.  
There is no way she did _nothing_ to Medea. Not with a laugh like that. But no matter how hard I pestered her, Grandmamma wouldn't tell me what she did to get back at Medea. I'm kind of thinking maybe she killed her.  
Well? I could happen.

**Tuesday October 23, Breakfast**

No Ginny again this morning. Not that I expected there to be. But I asked the 4th Years anyway, just in case maybe she wanted to be friends again. I mean, she could have seen how assertive I was with Pansy and decided she was wrong to criticize me so much.  
But I guess not.  
The funny thing is, when I came out of my room, Lavender and Parvati came out of their dorm too. We sort of smiled at each other, then we walked down to the Great Hall together. Lavender said she wanted to thank me for what I had done yesterday. And Parvati asked if maybe I wanted to maybe sit with them in Charms today. And lunch.  
I said, I mostly said it because I feel sorry for Lavender and Parvati, since they don't seem to have any other friends, because everybody thinks they are stupid girly-girls.  
And I think I kind of like them, too. They are _nice_ to me.  
It's nice to have people be nice to you.

**I have GOT to:**  
1. Stop waiting for someone to tap me on the shoulder (Ginny is NOT going to talk to me;  
neither is Draco Malfoy).  
2. Make more friends.  
3. Have more self-confidence.  
4. Stop biting my fake fingernails.  
5. Start acting more:  
A. Responsible  
B. Adult  
C. Mature  
6. Be happier.  
7. Achieve self-actualization.

**More Tuesday, History of Magic**

Oh my Circe. I can't even believe this. But it must be true, since Lavender just told me:  
_Ginny_ has a date to the Halloween Ball this weekend.  
_Ginny_ has a date. Even _Ginny_ has a date. That's not Neville (he's going with Susan Bones). I thought all the other boys in our school were terrified of Ginny, since she's been possessed by the young You-Know-Who and all.  
But there's one other boy who's not.  
Harry Potter.  
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!

**More Tuesday, Charms**

No boy will ever ask me out. Ever. EVERYONE has a date to the Halloween Ball. EVERYONE: Ginny, Lavender, Parvati, NEVILLE. I'm the only one not going. THE. ONLY. ONE.  
Oh, Ron's not going. But that's because he doesn't want to. Great. Now I'm going to have to spend Saturday night sitting in the common room getting creamed at Wizard chess by Towel-Boy. Just great.  
Why was I born under such an unlucky star? Why did _I_ have to be cursed with such freakishness? Why? WHY???  
I would give anything if, instead of being a five-foot-three know-it-all goddess, I could be a five-foot-six normal witch.  
ANYTHING

Confundus Charm_ (con-FUN-dus)_ Origins: "confundo" L. _to perplex _  
– Causes confusion. A person affected by this Charm is said to be Confunded.

**Later Tuesday**

Today in Flying, in between showing me how to brake without sliding off my broom, Ron complimented me on my handling of what he called the Parkinson Incident. I felt rather flattered, like when he said, Hermione, I don't know what's got into you lately! First you hit Malfoy then you walk out on Professor Trelawney – in this really astounded voice in 3rd Year. Maybe I've been assertive all along. Then again, in 3rd Year, I was pretty nuts from doing all those subjects and Time-Turning everywhere.  
Anyway, Ron said it was all over the school, about how I'd decimated Pansy in front of Draco. He said, Malfoy's in your Arithmancy class, isn't he?  
I said yes he is.  
Ron said, That must be awkward, but I told him it actually wasn't, because Pansy didn't walk to class with him today on her way to Divination or something since she seems to be avoiding me lately, and Draco never talks to me at all anyway, since he sits up the back of the classroom and I'm in the front row, except to say, Can I get by here? once in a while.  
I asked Ron if Ginny was still saying mean things about me, and he said, all taken aback, She's never said mean things about you. She just doesn't understand why you blew up at her like that.  
I said, Ron, she's always putting me down! I just couldn't take it anymore. I have too many other problems without having friends who aren't supportive of me.  
He laughed. What kind of problems could _you_ have?  
Like I was too much of a perfectionist or something to have problems!  
Boy, did I straighten him out. I couldn't exactly tell him about being a Goddess of Mount Olympus, or about having never been kissed or anything, but I did remind him that I'm flunking flying, I have detention for a week and that my parents moved to another country.  
He said he guessed I did have some problems after all.  
The whole time Ron and I were talking, I saw Ginny shooting us these looks from down by the paddock as she cut up dragon liver for Milly, Hagrid's new _baby_. So I guess because I'm fighting with her, I'm not allowed to be friends with her brother.  
Or maybe she's just sore because her boycott of Honeydukes is creating serious turmoil within the school. First of all, all the Ravenclaws have decided to do all their shopping exclusively at Honeydukes. Any why not? Because of Ginny's campaign, now they know they can get a five-Knut discount on just about everything. The other problem is that there is no other sweet shop within walking distance. This has caused some serious divisions withing the ranks of the protesters. The diabetics want to continue the boycott, but the chocoholics are all for writing the Honeydukes a stern letter and then forgetting about it. And since all the popular kids in school are Billywiggers, they aren't honouring the boycott at all. They're going to Honeydukes just like they always did to get their Fizzing Whizzbees.  
When you can't get the popular kids on your side, you have to realise it's hopeless: without celebrity supporters, no cause stands a chance. I mean, where would St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries be without Celestina Warbeck, who recently recorded Puddlemore Utd's team anthem, Beat Back Those Bludgers, Boys, And Chuck That Quaffle Here, which is always interrupting WWN's _Before They Were Quidditch Stars_ when all anyone really wants to know is whether world famous Beaters Kevin and Karl Broadmoor (Fred and George's idols) ever considered running their own joke shop.  
Anyway, then Ron asked me a strange question. He went, So are you grounded?  
I looked at him kind of funny. You mean for getting detention? No, of course not. My parents are totally on my side. My Mum wants to sue the school.  
Ron said, Oh. Well, I was wondering because, if you aren't busy Saturday, I thought maybe we both could –   
But then there was this bloodcurdling scream from Milly's paddock, because a 4th Year Hufflepuff fell into it because they had been perched on the fence, and all of us that were outside had to help Hagrid calm down Milly and put her back on her tether and Madam Hooch took the kid to the hospital wing.  
Then the bell rang, and I ran to Runes as fast as I could. I knew what Ron was going to ask me, see: he was going to suggest we meet to go over my flight control, which he says is a human tragedy. And I just didn't think I could take it. Flying? On the weekend? After spending almost every waking moment on it all week?  
No, thank you.  
But I didn't want to be rude, so I left before he could ask me. Was that terrible of me?  
Honestly, a girl can only take so much criticism of her kick-offs.

**Homework:**  
HoM: International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy  
CoMC: write a lullaby for Milly  
Charms: ??? Ask Ron. Forgot. Can't ask Ron. He might ask me about Flying. Ask Harry.  
Potions: Memory Potions essay  
DADA: Wards essay  
Arithmancy: Problems – Ex. 36  
Transfig: none  
Runes: Essay – Stonehenge and it's significance.

Continued in Part Seven...

* * *

A/N2: (which is actually about the _fic_, second surprise of all surprises) A lot of people wanted to know when everyone at Hogwarts finds out that Hermione's a goddess, and when Hermione gets with Draco (yes folks, it WILL happen!!) and how Ron reacts. Well, let me just remind everyone that _patience is a virtue_ ;o) And just so you all know, I will NOT be Harry Pottering Princess In The Spotlight aka Take Two (the sequel to TPD) because that would be serious overkill. All good things must come to an end (there are a few more chapters of this to come, so stress less), but don't worry, I only do happy endings :o)


	7. Part Seven

Disclaimer:  
Everything you recognise from Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling (aka _The Goddess_ – a real one)  
Everything you recognise from The Princess Diaries belongs to Meg Cabot  
I own nothing :o)

* * *

The Goddess Diaries - Part Seven

_The shit hath hitith the fan... ith._  
– Michael, 10 Things I Hate About You

**Wednesday 24 October, before Potions**

No Ginny again today. She must have to get up really early to have breakfast before I get down there. Talk about stubborn.  
It was really weird when I walked through the Entrance Hall after breakfast to go to the library this morning (where I am now). Heaps of people where all clustered into these little groups on the marble staircase looking at something. I suppose somebody's dad has been accused of fixing a Quidditch match again. Parents can be so self-centred: before they do something illegal, they should totally stop and think about how their kids are going to feel if they get caught.  
If I were Ludo Bagman's kid, I would change my name move to Australia.  
I just walked right on by to show that I wasn't going to have any part in gossip. _The Daily Prophet_ is just nothing but gutter trash these days. I cancelled my subscription; it was just such a waste of money. Without Rita Skeeter printing her reams of Booker-Prize winning (not) fiction, it's not even funny anymore.  
A bunch of people stared at me. I guess Ron's right: it really _has_ gotten around about me assaulting Pansy with a custard tart. Either that or my hair was sticking up in some weird way. But I checked it in the mirror in the Girls' Bathroom and it wasn't.  
A bunch of 2nd Years ran out of the bathroom giggling like crazy when I went in, though.  
Sometimes I wish I lived on a desert island. Really. With nobody else around for hundreds of kilometres. Just me, the ocean, the sand and a coconut tree.  
And maybe my wand and a library, including a copy of _Hogwarts, A History_, for when I get bored.

**Little-Known Facts:**  
1. The most commonly asked question at Hogwarts is, Do you have any Droobles?  
2. Gertie Keddle only knew the name of one of the days of the week (Tuesday).  
3. In the library, it sometimes takes less than 2 seconds for Madam Pince to catch  
you if you have snuck into the Restricted Section.  
4. I miss being friends with Ginny Weasley.

**Later on Wednesday, after Potions**

This totally weird thing just happened. (Not counting all the Syths gawking at me all lesson.) I was just cleaning up after class – Professor Snape yelled at me again for helping Neville so I had to stay behind – and Draco Malfoy walked past as he was heading out, and he stopped at my cauldron and said, How you doin'? to me as I was wiping up newt blood.  
I swear to Queen Mab I am not making this up.  
I was in such total shock, I nearly knocked over the barrel of horned slugs that was standing next to my cauldron. I don't have any idea what I said to him. I think I said I was fine. I _hope_ I said I was fine.  
_Why is Draco Malfoy speaking to me_?  
It must have been one of those synaptic breakdowns, like the one he had in Hogsmeade.  
Then Draco swung his backpack over his other shoulder, looked right down into my face – he's really tall – and said, see you later.  
Then he walked away.  
It took me five minutes to stop hyperventilating.

His eyes are so grey they hurt to look at.

**Wednesday, Professor McGonagall's Office**

It's over.  
I'm dead.  
That's it.  
Now I know what everyone was looking at in the Entrance Hall. I know why they were all staring and whispering and giggling. I know why those girls ran out of the bathroom. I know why Draco Malfoy talked to me.  
My picture is on the cover of the _Prophet_.  
That's right. The _Daily Prophet_. Read by millions of witches and wizards every morning.  
Oh, yeah. I'm dead.  
Well, you can't actually see my picture; I keep trying to hide behind the front door of the Ritz. I guess somebody took it as I was leaving the Ritz on Sunday night after dinner with Grandmamma and my Mum. I don't remember anybody taking my picture, but I guess somebody did.  
The headline above the photo is, _Goddess Hermione_, and then in smaller letters, _Hogwarts' Very Own Deity_.  
Great. Just great.  
This is worse than last time. Last time I didn't have _my photo_ on the front page of the _Daily Prophet_. Last time it was all lies (as _if_ I would ever date Harry).  
This time, I'm dead.  
Professor Dumbledore, the only other person who knew, talked to my Mum, and apparently she blew a gasket. She told Prof. D that until she could get there, I should be sent somewhere .  
So here I am. Prof. D needs to get to know Prof. McG better, if he thinks it's _here_.  
Actually, I shouldn't say that. She hasn't been so bad. She showed me the paper and said, kind of sarcastically, You might have shared this with me, Hermione, when I asked you the other day if everything was all right with you.  
I blushed. I said. I didn't think anyone would believe me.  
It is, Professor McGonagall said, a bit unbelievable.  
That's what the story on page 2 of the _Prophet_ said too. _Fairy Tale Comes True For One Lucky Hogwarts Kid_ was how the reporter, one Ms. Darla Prattellez, put it. Like I had won the Lottery, or something. Like I should be _happy_ about it.  
Ms Darla Prattellez goes on at length about my father, handsome wizard Phillip Granger and my mother, raven-haired Goddess Helen of Mount Olympus, who have both spent the last fifteen years living as Muggles and working as dentists. Oh, thanks, Darla Prattellez, for letting all of Great Britain's Wizarding community know that my parents' previous occupation was one of the most boring and detested jobs ever imaginable.  
Then she went on to describe me as the petite beauty who is one of Hogwart's top students.  
HELLO??? DARLA PRATTELLEZ, WHAT ARE YOU ON?????  
I am NOT a petite beauty. Yeah, I'm smart. Yeah, I'm SHORT. I'm way SHORT. But I am no beauty. This one's worse than Skeeter! Where does the _Prophet_ GET these people??? St Mungo's??? Is the only prerequisite for becoming a journalist the ability to spin lies like it's cotton??? I want what Darla Prattellez has been smoking, if she thinks _I'M_ beautiful.  
No wonder everybody was laughing at me. This is SO embarrassing. I mean, honestly.  
Oh, here comes Mum. Boy, does _she_ look mad

**More Wednesday, History of Magic**

It isn't fair.  
This is totally and completely unfair.  
I mean, anybody else's mum, if her kid's picture was on the front cover of the _Prophet_, would say, Maybe you should skip school for a few days, until things calm down.  
Anybody else's mum would have been like, Maybe you should change schools. How do you feel about Australia? Would you like to go to school in Australia?  
But oh, no. Not _my_ Mum. Because _she's_ a goddess. And she says members of the heavenly realm of Mount Olympus do not go home when there is a crisis. No, they stay where they are and slug it out.  
Slug it out. I think my Mum has something in common with Darla Prattellez: they are BOTH on something.  
Then Mum reminded me that it's not like I'm not getting paid for this. Right! One hundred lousy Galleons! One hundred lousy Galleons a day to be publicly ridiculed and humiliated.  
Those house elves better be grateful, that's all I have to say.  
So here I am in HoM with the Hufflepuffs, and everyone is whispering about be and pointing at me like I'm the victim of and alien abduction, or something, and Mum expects me to sit here and let them, because I'm a goddess and that's what goddesses do.  
But these kids are _brutal_.  
Harry's blinking at me a lot, and Ron's just _staring_ like he did when Fleur Look At Me, Look At Me Delacour asked him for the bouillabaisse last year, and Neville, Dean, Seamus, Lavender and Parvati keep shooting glances over to try and get a look at me. As if I don't live in the same tower as them already. And Hufflepuffs are supposed to be _nice_. No wonder Harry's turned into such an introvert. Or maybe it was duelling with You-Know-Who.  
I tired to tell Mum that this would happen. I was like, Mum, you don't understand. They're all laughing at me.  
All she said was, I'm sorry honey. You're just going to have to tough it out. You knew this was going to happen eventually. I'd hoped it wouldn't be quite this soon, but it's probably just as well to get it over with  
Um, hello??? I did _not_ know this was going to happen eventually. I thought I was going to be able to keep this whole goddess thing a secret. My lovely plan about only being goddess in Greece is falling apart. I have to be a goddess right here in Hogwarts, and believe me, that is no picnic.  
I was so mad at Mum for telling me I had to go back to class, I accused him of having ratted me out to Darla Prattellez herself.  
Mum just rolled her eyes at me like she does when she's mad at me and said she's going to have to get Nick to come over and be my bodyguard. I'm not kidding, now I have a bodyguard trailing around after me from class to class. Like I'm not enough of a laughing stock already.  
I now have an armed escort.  
I totally tried to get out of it. I was like, Mum, I can seriously take care of myself, but she was like completely rigid, and said that even though Olympia is a small heavenly realm, it is a very wealthy heavenly realm, and she cannot take the risk of me being kidnapped and held for ransom. Honestly, our current DADA teacher is a _vampire _for Merlin's sake. We all survived with a _werewolf_ and a _Death Eater_. And she's worried about _kidnappers_??  
I said, Mum, no one is going to kidnap me. This is a _school_, but she wouldn't go for it. She asked Professor McGonagall if it was all right, and she said, Of course, Your Holiness.  
Your Holiness! Professor McGonagall called my mother Your Holiness! If it hadn't been all serious and stuff, I would have wet my pants laughing.  
The only good thing that has come out of this is that Professor McGonagall let me off detention for the rest of the week. She says having my picture in the _Prophet_ is punishment enough.  
Here here.

**More Wednesday, Free Period after Flying**

I guess I should have my picture on the front page of the _Prophet_ more often (for things that don't make me out to be a Scarlet woman, that is).  
Suddenly I am very popular.  
I walked into the Great Hall (I told Nick to keep five paces behind me at all times; he kept stepping on the back of my Docs), and Pansy Parkinson, of all people, came prancing up to me and said, Hey, Hermione. Why don't you come and sit with us?  
I am not even kidding.  
That lousy hypocrite wants to be friends with me, now that I'm a goddess.  
Lavender and Parvati were right behind me (well, Nick was right behind me; Lavender and Parvati where right behind Nick). But did Pansy invite Lavender and Parvati to join her? Of course not. The _Daily Prophet_ didn't call either of _them_ a petite beauty. Plain old boring Gryffindors aren't good enough to sit by _Pansy_. Oh, no. Only pure-bred Olympian goddesses are good enough to sit by _Pansy_.  
I nearly threw up all over the books I was holding in my arms because they didn't fit in my bag.  
No, thanks, Pansy, I said. I already have people to sit with.  
You should have seen Pansy's face. The last time I saw her look that shocked, a custard tart had been stuck to her chest.  
Later, when we were sitting down at our end of the Gryffindor table, away from Harry and Ron and Ginny, Lavender and Parvati were only nibbling at their lunches. Meanwhile though, everybody in the Great Hall – including the Hufflepuffs who never noticed anything – was staring at our end of the table. Let me tell you, it was way uncomfortable. I could feel Ginny's eyes boring into me. She hadn't said anything yet, but I think she had to have known. Nothing much escapes Ginny.  
Anyway, after a while, I couldn't stand it anymore. I put down a forkful of rice and beans and said, Look, guys. If you two don't want me to sit with you anymore, I understand.  
Parvati's big brown eyes filled up with tears. I mean it. She shook her head, and her long black braid swayed. What do you mean? she asked.  
Lavender looked down at her plate. Don't you like us anymore, Hermione?  
It was my turn to be shocked. What? Of course I like you two. I thought maybe you might not like _me_. I mean, everyone is staring at us and talking about us. I could see why you might not want to sit with me.  
Parvati smiled sadly. Everyone always talks about us. They think we're cookes because we like Divination.  
So you see, Lavender said, We're _used_ to people thinking we're weird. It's _you_ we feel sorry for, Hermione. You could be sitting with anyone – anyone in the whole Great Hall – and yet you're stuck with us. We don't want you to feel you have to be nice to us, just because no one else is.  
I got really mad then. Not at Lavender and Parvati. But at everybody else at Hogwarts. I mean, Lavender and Parvati are really, really nice, and no one knows it, because no one ever talks to them, because they keep to themselves and they're kind of quiet and they have the Inner Eye. While people are worrying about things like the sweetshop over-charging some people by five Knuts for sugar quills, there are human beings walking around our school in abject misery because no one will even say Good Morning to them, or How Was Your Weekend?  
And then felt guilty, because I week ago _I_ had been one of those people. I had always thought people who believed in Divination were freaks. The whole reason I hadn't wanted anyone to find out that I was a goddess was that I was afraid they'd treat _me_ the way they treated Lavender and Parvati. And now that I know Lavender and Parvati, I know just how wrong I'd been to think badly of them.  
So I told Lavender and Parvati that I didn't want to sit with anyone else but them. I told her that we needed to stick together because everyone else at this stupid school is absolutely NUTS.  
They both looked a lot happier then, and started filling me in on the dress robes they are wearing on Saturday night and how they're going to do their hair and stuff. They are both so excited. I smiled and nodded.  
Then I saw Ginny staring in my direction. It wasn't the kind of stare someone who was about to apologize would use. So I wasn't too surprised when later, as we were heading out of the oak front doors to go outside for our classes, Ginny walked near us and stared some more. Harry kept trying to talk to her, but she obviously wasn't listening. Finally, he gave up, and went off to get his Firebolt from the broomshed.  
Meanwhile, this is how my tutoring session with Ron went, although we never got off the ground:

_Me_: Hi, Ron. I was thinking about what you said about the vertical pivots, and I just can't seem to figure out how I hold on to the broom properly so I don't slip right down it.  
_Ron_: So. Goddess of Mount Olympus, huh? Were you ever going to share that little piece of info with the group, or were we all supposed to guess?  
_Me_: I was kind of hoping no one would ever find out.  
_Ron_: Well, that's obvious. I don't see why, though. It's not like it's a bad thing.  
_Me_: Are you kidding me? Of course it's bad!  
_Ron_: Did you even _read_ the article in today's _Prophet_, Hermione?  
_Me_: No way, I'm not going to read that trash. I don't know who this Darla Prattellez thinks she is, but – 

Then Ginny got into the act. It was like she couldn't stand to not get involved.

_Ginny_: So you're not aware that the Queen Goddess of Mount Olympia – namely your mother – has a total personal worth which, including real estate property and the palace's art collection, is estimated at over three hundred million Galleons?

Well, I guess it's pretty obvious that _Ginny_ read the article in today's _Prophet_.

_Me_: Um

Hello? Three hundred million Galleons?? And I get a lousy 100 Galleons a day???

_Ginny_: I wonder how much of that fortune was amassed by brainwashing the common labourer?  
_Ron_: Considering the deity of Greece have been around since the beginning of time just about, since before there actually was people to I would say none of it. What is _with_ you anyway, Gin?  
_Ginny_: Well, if _you_ want to tolerate the excesses of the deity, you can be my guest, Ron. But I happen to think it's disgusting, with the state of the world being what it is at the moment, with You-Know-Who running around again like a manic, that one person can have the powers to cause the destruction of the globe or have a total wealth of three hundred million Galleons. Especially some one who never did a day's work for it!  
_Ron_: Pardon me, Ginny, but it's my understanding that Hermione's mother works very hard for her heavens and the people whom it supports. And I'm surprised you didn't know, Ginny, with your overarching obsession with feminism, that Ancient Greek religion first proposed the concept that women were more important than men. Tens of thousands of years ago, as the evidence of cave art and artefacts make clear, humanity was focused on the female body, either pregnant or fit to bare children. Childbirth was the closest humans came to the great power that caused the earth to bring forth new life in the spring. These distant ancestors of ours were evolved enough to think of worshipping this power. And this great power was female, for the human female has the ability to procreate – to bring forth new life.

I could only stare at Ron after that. _Wow_. Since _when_ did he become so articulate? And why doesn't Grandmamma teach me stuff like _that_ at our goddess lessons? I mean, this is information I could actually use. I don't exactly need to know which direction to tip my soup bowl. I need to know how to defend myself against virulent anti-deitists like my ex-best friend Ginny.

_Ginny_ (to Ron): Shut up. (To me): I see they already have you spouting of their populist propaganda like a good little girl.  
_Me_: _Me_? Ron's the one who –  
_Ron_: Aw, Ginny, you're just jealous.  
_Ginny_: I am not!  
_Ron_: Yes, you are. You're jealous because she got her hair cut without consulting you. You're jealous because you stopped talking to her, and she went out and got new friends. And you're jealous, because all his time, Hermione's had this secret she didn't tell you.  
_Ginny_: Ron, SHUT UP!  
_Harry_: (hovering past on his Firebolt) Ginny? Did you say something?  
_Ginny_: I WASN'T TALKING TO YOU, HARRY!  
_Harry_: Sorry. (Flies away)  
_Ginny_: (really mad now) Gosh, Ron, you sure are quick to come to Hermione's defence all of a sudden. I wonder if maybe it ever occurred to you that your argument, which is ostensibly based on logic, might have less intellectual that libidinous roots?  
_Ron_: (turning red for some reason) Well, what about your persecution of the Honeydukes? Is that rooted in intellectual reasoning? Or is it more an example of vanity run amok?  
_Ginny_: That's a circular argument.  
_Ron_: It isn't. It's empirical.

Um, since when did Ginny and Ron start using words that even _I_ don't know the meaning of?

_Ron_ (to me): So does this guy (he pointed to Nick) have to follow you around everywhere from now on?  
_Me_: Yes.  
_Ron_: Really? _Everywhere_?  
_Me_: Everywhere except the Ladies' Room. Then he waits outside.  
_Ron_: What if you were to go on a date? Like to the Halloween Ball this weekend?  
_Me_: That hasn't exactly been an issue, considering that no one's asked me.  
_Neville_: (hanging on a turret on the castle wall) Um, can someone help me up here? I lost control of my broom and I sort of got stuck.  
_Everyone in the Flying class_: NO!!!  
_Madam Hooch_: (looking up from her copy of _Quidditch Refs Weekly_) What's all this noise? I can hardly hear myself think. Neville, why are you hanging off the castle wall? Get down now. Harry, Ron, go and help him. Hermione, come here and show me your braking.

I need to take a closer look at that article in today's _Prophet_. Three hundred million Galleons?? Does Gringotts actually _hold_ that much gold?  
And if we deities are so powerful, WHY CAN'T I RIDE A BROOMSTICK????

Note to self: Look up the words _empirical_ and _libidinous_.

Continued in Part Eight...

* * *

Author's Notes: (you guys didn't honestly think I'd go without doing one, did you??)  
Ron's spiffy account of feminism's roots in Greek mythology is based on material from Mythweb's page on Hera – http://www.mythweb.com/gods/Hera.html.  
Now, before you yell at me for Ron & Ginny being OOC, remember this magic word: JOKE. And anyway, I think it's quite plausible that Ron's a genius who doesn't show off about it. I mean, just look at him playing chess.  
_Fleur Look At Me, Look At Me Delacour_ is a salute to one of the greatest teen movies of all time, 10 Things I Hate About You, which is where the epigraph for this chapter comes from too. 

Special mentions to: Mundungus, Jade Star, hermionegirl, Athena**MEG, Megan, Penny Weasley, Chrissie, krazy4life (oh, _calm down_!! But thanks for making me feel wanted!), Dragon2088 (Yeah, I tired to do some of my own stuff too, and Ron's towel was included firstly as a special treat for Hermione, and secondly to make up for the fact that Hermione's dad isn't dating Madam Hooch ::wink:: Oh, and thanks for pushing up my review count, tee hee!), yolande, LisaQT3 (I feel your pain I was addicted to HP ff for the 3 months leading up to my university entrance exams BAD move), Sango-sama, rupert grint or ronald weasley oh i can't decide (tough choice, hey? ::grin::), Rachel (glad you get it now sorry for earlier, and about Draco, well, hey, look, this certainly ain't canon), Astria, HPMystery, Sailor_V_Light, IckleRonniekins, Kax, Kiana and Lauren.

And ::mwah:: to everyone who keeps coming back for more, you know who you are! (And if you've forgotten, check the previous chapters!) Love you all!! KEEP GRINNING!! (and drooling over Oliver)

Oh, and guys, if you read any of my other stories, REVIEW THEM TOO!! Please? :o) I love reviews!


	8. Part Eight

Disclaimer:  
Everything you recognise from Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling (aka _The Goddess_ – a real one)  
Everything you recognise from The Princess Diaries belongs to Meg Cabot  
I own nothing :o)

Author's Note:  
OK, so for a little fun, I'm gonna give 20 House Points and a bag of Oliver-flavoured Bertie Bott's to the first person to correctly tell me why Ron decided to boycott the Halloween Ball. Now, I want his REAL reason, not that pathetic excuse he dribbled out to cover his tracks. Here's a hint: _last Monday_. Enter by review or e-mail :o) Let's see how well you've all been reading this and how much of a R/Hr shipper you really are!

Oh, and I would like to make the following advertorial announcement: The Princess Diaries: Third Time Lucky, aka Princess in Love in the US/Canada, totally, completely, absolutely, undoubtedly, supremely, almightyly (etc) ROX. _I am not even kidding_. ;o) Apprently it doesn't get published for a while (it _actually_ says first published 2002 in it, and according to amazon.com, it's coming out in _April_, which is all _so_ weird) but I got my hot little hands on a copy, and it's JOY! Go find it! Cheers :o)

empirical: originating in or based on observation or experience _empirical_ data / relying on experience or observation alone often without due regard for system and theory / capable of being verified or disproved by observation or experiment   
libidinous: having or marked by lustful desires (::mock innocence:: Now, what would _that_ have to do with Ron's argument? ;o)

* * *

The Goddess Diaries - Part Eight

**Wednesday Night**

No wonder my Mum was so mad about Darla Prattellez's article! When Nick and I walked down to the school gates to get to the limo after my Flying review session this afternoon, there were reporters all over the place. I am not even kidding. It was just like I was a murderer, or a celebrity, or something.  
According to Hagrid, who walked down with us on his way to the Three Broomsticks, reporters had been arriving all day. They'd been trying to interview all the kids who go to Hogwarts, asking if they know me (for once, being unpopular pays off: I can't imagine they were able to find anybody could actually remember who I was – at least, not with my new non-triangular hair). Hagrid says Professor Dumbledore finally had to tell them to leave, because Hogwarts is private property and the reporters were trespassing all over the place.  
I have to say, I sort of know how Princess Diana felt. I mean, when Nick and Hagrid and I got to the gate, the reporters started trying to swarm all over, waving Quick-Quotes Quills at us and yelling stuff like, Hermione, how about a smile? and, Hermione, what's it like to wake up one morning as a Muggle-born witch and go to bed the next night a divine goddess worth over three hundred million Galleons?  
I was kind of scared. Even if I'd wanted to, I couldn't have answered their questions, I didn't know which reporter to talk to. Plus I was practically rendered blind by all the flashbulbs going off in front of my face. I had no idea there were this many journalist in the Wizarding community. Isn't there just one Wizarding newspaper?  
Anyway, then Nick went into action. You should have seen it. First, he told me not to say anything. Then he put his arm around me. He told Hagrid to put his arm around my other side. Then, and I suppose having Hagrid there helped, we ducked our heads and barrelled through all the cameras and Quick-Quotes Quills and the people attached to them, until the next thing I knew, Nick was pushing into the back seat of the car, and jumping in after me.  
Hello! I guess all that training in the Israeli army paid off (I overheard Nick telling Lee Jordan that where he learnt how to cope with an attack of up to 10 bad guys single headedly. The two of them were having a very disturbing conversation before lunch, about magical crowd control methods and the like).  
Anyway, as soon as Nick slammed the back door shut, he said, and the guy behind the wheel hit the accelerator, and we were off. Then I noticed Mum sitting in front of me, in the seat that faces the back of the limo. And while we're pulling away, brakes squealing, flashbulbs going off, photographers jumping onto the windshield to try and get a better shot, my Mum goes, all casual, So. How was your day, Hermione?  
Honestly!  
I decided to ignore my Mum. Instead, I turned around in my seat to wave goodbye to Hagrid. Only Hagrid had been swallowed up in a sea of Quick-Quotes Quills! He wouldn't talk to them, though. He just kept waving his hands and wading through the crowd to try and get away from them and closer to his tankard (or six) of mulled mead.  
I felt sorry for poor Hagrid. True, he is probably once again risking the lives of the entire Hogwarts student body with his enjoyment of the company of dangerous magical beasts, but he really is a nice guy, and doesn't deserve to be harassed by the media.  
So then I asked my Mum where I was going to go to school now.  
My Mum looked at me like I was nuts. You said you wanted to say at Hogwarts! she kind of yelled.  
I said, Well, yes, but that was before Darla Prattellez outed me.  
Then Mum wanted to know what outing was, so I explained to her that outing is when somebody reveals your sexual orientation on national TV, or in the newspaper, or some other large public forum. Only in this case, I explained, instead of my sexual orientation, my divine status had been revealed.  
So then my Mum said I couldn't go to a new school just because I'd been outed as a goddess. She said I have to stay at Hogwarts, and Nick will go to classes with me and protect me from reporters. I told her I that can handle reporters by myself, thank you very much. I got Skeeter, didn't I? But Mum scoffed and said that was just a lucky break, and if I could handle them then why was I outed?  
So then I said is Nick going to go with me everywhere I go? Like how about if I just wanted to walk down to Hogsmeade with Ginny? I mean, if Ginny and I were still friends. Which certainly is never going to happen now.  
And my Mum said, Nick would go with you.  
So basically, I am never going to go anywhere alone again.  
This made me kind of mad. I sat in the back seat with the red from a traffic light flashing down my face (we were in London by now) and I said, OK, well, that's it. I don't want to be a goddess anymore. You can take back you one hundred Galleons a day and send Grandmamma back to Greece. I quit.  
And my Mum said, in this tired voice, You can't quit, Hermione. The article today closed the deal. Tomorrow your face will be in every magical newspaper in the United Kingdom – maybe even the world. Everyone will know that you are Goddess Hermione of Mount Olympus. And you cannot quite being who you are.  
I guess it wasn't a very goddessy thing to do, but I cried all the way to the Ritz. Nick gave me his handkerchief, which I thought was very nice of him.  
My Dad apparently thinks Grandmamma is the person who tipped off Darla Prattellez.  
But I can't believe Grandmamma would so something like that – you know, give the _Prophet_ the inside scoop on me. Especially when I'm so far behind in my goddess lessons. You know? It's almost garanteed that now I'm going to start acting like a goddess – I mean, _really_ acting like one – but Grandmamma hasn't even got to all the important stuff yet, like how to argue knowledgeably with virulent anti-deitists like Ginny. So far all Grandmamma has taught me is how to sit, how to dress, how to use a fish fork, how to address senior members of the holy household staff, how to say thank you so much and no, I don't care for that in seven languages and how to talk to an oracle without making them explode due to the greatness of the wisdom I have to offer (uh, _yeah_).  
What good is any of THAT going to do to me?  
I don't think I've ever mentioned this, but it's really hard to write with my new fake fingernails. They're kind of cool though, they have an Ink Repelling Charm on them and now I don't have blue fingertips like I usually do, from all the writing that I do.  
Anyway.  
The more I think about it now, the more I wonder whether or not Grandmamma really is the one who tipped off Darla Prattellez.  
Really.  
I mean, when I got to my goddess lesson today, I was still crying, and Grandmamma was totally unsympathetic about it. She was all, And these tears are because and when I told her, she just raised her painted on eyebrows – she plucks hers all out and draws new ones on everyday, which kind of defeats the purpose, if you ask me, but whatever – and went, _C'est la vie._  
That's life? _That's life_?  
Only in life, I don't think a lot of girls get their face plastered across the front page of the _Prophet_, unless they've won the Annual Grand Prize Galleon Draw, or escaped from Azkaban, or something. _I_ didn't do anything except get born.  
I don't think that's life at all. I think that sucks, is what I think.  
The Grandmamma started talking about how she's been fielding floo calls and owls all day from representatives of the media, and how all these people want to interview me, and she said I ought to have a press conference and that she's already talked to the Ritz people about it, and they'd set aside this special room with a podium and a pitcher of iced pumpkin juice and some potted palms and stuff.  
I couldn't believe it! I was like, Grandmamma! I don't want to hold a press conference! Circe! Like I really want everyone knowing my business!  
And Grandmamma said, all prissy, Well, if you don't try to accommodate the media, they're just going to try and get the story any way they can, which means they'll keep showing up at your school.  
Then Grandmamma wanted to know where my sense of heavenly duty was. She said it would greatly promote faith in and tourism to Mount Olympus if I would just be interviewed on WWN.  
I really want to do what's best for Mount Olympus. I really do. But I also have to do what's best for Hermione Granger. And going on WWN would definitely not be good for me.  
But Grandmamma seems really gung-ho about the whole promoting Mount Olympus thing. So I sort of started to wonder if maybe, just maybe, my Dad is right. Maybe Grandmamma _did_ talk to Darla Prattellez.  
But would Grandmamma do something like that?  
Well. Yeah.

**Thursday 25 October 2001, Before Transfiguration**

Well, this morning my face was on the covers of the _Hogsmeade Herald_, the _Diagon Ally Gazette_, and a special issue of _Magic Monthly_. People keep staring at me. This is NOT good.

**Here's what I need to do:**  
1. Think of some way to get Ginny to like me again.  
2. Stop being such a wimp.  
3. Stop lying  
and/or  
Think of better lies.  
4. Stop being so dramatic.  
5. Start being more  
A. independent.  
B. self-reliant  
C. mature  
6. Stop thinking about Draco Malfoy.  
7. Stop thinking about Ronald Weasley.  
8. Learn how to fly a broomstick.  
9. Achieve self-actualization.

**Thursday, HoM**  
So I was eating lunch, sitting at our lonely end of the Gryffindor table across from Lavender and Parvati and Nick, and Parvati was telling me how in India, where her parents come from, girls wear these things called saris that are like 6 feet long pieces of silk material that you wrap around yourself and have amazing patterns on them and stuff. Parvati says that her dress robes for Saturday night are made out of sari material and they are deep aquamarine blue with gold patterning. It sounds so nice.  
I wish I could wear something that sounds that nice to the Ball. But I have no one to go with, so obviously I won't be going. What is _wrong_ with me, anyway? How come no boys like _me_?  
So anyway, Parvati was telling us about saris, when all of a sudden, Pansy Parkinson put her golden plate down next to mine.  
I am not even kidding. _Pansy Parkinson_.  
I of course thought she was going to whip out the receipt for the custard tarted sweater's dry cleaning or start shaking pepper all over our salads, or something, but instead she just went, all breezy, You guys don't mind if we join you, do you?  
Then I saw this other golden plate sliding over on my other side. It was loaded with two double cheeseburgers, pasta with meatballs and cheese, and five chicken drumsticks. When I looked up to see who could possibly be ingesting more saturated fats than Ron, I saw Draco Malfoy pulling out the chair next to mine.  
I am not even kidding. _Draco Malfoy_.  
He went, to me and sat down and started eating.  
I looked at Lavender and Parvati and Lavender and Parvati looked at me, and then all three of us looked at Nick. But he was busy chatting to Fred and George about silencing charms for explosions. Which sort of defeats Gred and Forge's life purpose of making as much noise as magically possible, but whatever.  
Lavender and Parvati and I looked back at Pansy and Draco.  
Really attractive people. Like Pansy and Draco, don't ever go anywhere alone. They always have this sort of entourage that follows them around. Pansy's entourage consists of a bunch of other Slytherin girls, most of whom are cheerleaders, like she is. With the exception of Millicent Bulstrode, they are all really pretty, with long hair and breasts and stuff.  
Draco's entourage consists of a bunch of Slytherin boys who are on the Quidditch team with him, as well as Crabbe and Goyle. They were all large and (not counting Crabbe and Goyle) handsome, and they were all eating excessive amounts of animal by-products, just like Draco.  
Draco's entourage put their golden plates down besides Draco's. Pansy's entourage put their golden plates down besides Pansy's. And soon, our end of the Gryffindor table, which had been previously occupied by three geeky girls and a bodyguard, was being graced by the most beautiful people in Hogwarts – maybe even the whole of the United Kingdom.  
Now, we all know Professor Dumbledore as been encouraging inter-house fraternization all year to try and raise school spirit in these Dark and dreary times, but when a bunch of attractive Slytherins come and sit down next to a group of loserish Gryffindors, you really have to start wondering about The Way The World Is Today.  
I got a good look at Ginny and her eyes were bugging out. So were Harry's and Ron's and the whole of Gryffindor house. Not to mention Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw and Slytherin. And the staff. It was SO WEIRD. I heard Professor Dumbledore chuckle into his goblet. Professor MgGonagall took her glasses off and started cleaning then with her robes then put them back on and looked at us again. Professor Snape's mouth was just hanging open and he didn't seem to be bothered to close it.  
Pansy said, all chatty-like, not seeming to be bothered that the whole Great Hall were staring at her – she must have either been used to it or was enjoying it – while she picked at her salad – no dressing and only water on the side. What are you up to this weekend, Mione? Are you going to the Halloween Ball?  
Mione? _Mione_? SINCE WHEN DOES PANSY PARKINSON CALL ME _MIONE_???  
I said, brilliantly. Let me see  
Because Draco's thinking about having this thing in our common room on Saturday night, after the Ball, and all. You should come.  
I said. Well, I don't –   
She should totally come, Pansy said, stabbing at a cherry tomato with her fork. Shouldn't she, Draco?  
Draco was shovelling pasta into his mouth. he said, with his mouth full. She should come.  
It's going to be so _cool_, Pansy said. What we're thinking of doing to our common room is like _great_. We might magick in a Jacuzzi. Weren't you thinking about a Jacuzzi, Draco?  
Draco said, Yeah, we're –   
Lachlan, a member of Draco's entourage, and a six foot two 6th Year Chaser, interrupted. Hey, Malfoy, remember after the last Ball? When Zabini passed out on the common room floor? That was _rad_.  
Pansy giggled. Oh, Merlin! She chugged that whole bottle of Ambrosia Vodka. Remember, Draco? She drank practically the whole thing herself – what a hog! – and then she wouldn't stop throwing up.  
Major vomitage, Lachlan agreed.  
She had to have her stomach pumped, Pansy said to Lavender, Parvati and me. Madam Pomfrey said if Draco hadn't flooed her when he did, she'd have died.  
We all turned to look at Draco. He said, modestly, It was _way_ uncool.  
Pansy stopped giggling. It was, she said, all solemn now that Draco Malfoy had declared the incident uncool.  
I didn't know what was supposed to say about that, so I just said,   
Pansy said. She ate a shred of lettuce and swished some water in her mouth. Are you coming, or not.  
I'm sorry, I said. I can't.  
A lot of Pansy's friends, who'd been talking amongst themselves stopped talking and looked at me. Draco's friends, however, went right on eating.  
You _can't_? Pansy said, making this very astonished face.  
I said. I can't.  
What do you mean, you _can't_?  
I thought about lying. I could have said something like, Pansy, I can't go because I have to have dinner with Shiva and his many wives. I could have said I can't go because I have to open a harvest festival in Cyprus. There were all sorts of excuses I could have made up. But for one, for once in my stupid life, I went I told the truth.  
I can't go, I said, Because it's against school rules to have a party like that.  
Oh, dear Merlin. Why did I say that? Why, why, why? I should have lied. I totally should have lied. Because how did I sounded, saying something like that? Uh, like a total freak. Worse than a freak. A dork. A Grade-A nerd.  
I don't know what compelled me to tell the truth in the first place. It wasn't even the _real_ truth. I mean, it was _a_ truth, but it wasn't the real reason I was saying no. I mean, it's true there is no way I was going to _let_ myself, as a Prefect, go down to a party in the Slytherin common room when we're all supposed to be in our dormitories. Even with a bodyguard. But the reason, of course, is that I wouldn't know how to _act_ at a party like that. I mean, I've heard about these kinds of parties. There are like _whole rooms_ reserved for people to go and make out. We're talking major French kissing. Maybe even MORE than French kissing. Maybe even like above-the-waist touching. Maybe even below-the-waist touching. I don't know for sure, because no one I know has ever been to one of those parties. No one I know is popular enough to get invited.  
Plus everybody drinks. But I don't drink, and I don't have anybody to make out with. So what would I _do_ there?  
Pansy looked at me, and then she looked at her friends, and then she burst out laughing. Loud. I mean, REALLY loud.  
Well, I guess I can't really blame her.  
Oh, Queen Mab, Pansy said, when she had gotten over laughing so hard that she couldn't talk. You can't be serious.  
I knew right then that Pansy had just latched upon a whole new thing to torture me about. I didn't really care so much about me, but I felt bad for Lavender and Parvati, who'd managed to keep such a low profile for so long. Suddenly, because of me they were being sucked into the middle of the popular girl torture zone.  
Oh, my Circe, Pansy said. Are you kidding me?  
I said.   
Well you're not supposed to tell them the _truth_, Pansy said, all snotty again.  
I didn't know what she as talking about.  
The teachers. _Nobody_ tells the teachers the _truth_. If you get caught sneaking out, tell them you had to get something to work on an assignment. _Duh_.  
Oh.  
She meant lie. To break the rules. Pansy obviously didn't know about Harry's invisibility cloak. Sneaking out wasn't the problem. Honestly, if half the school knew what Harry, Ron and I (mainly Harry and Ron) get up to, they'd be worshipping us. Speaking of worshipping oh, forget it.  
Anyway, so I said, Look, it's not like I don't appreciate being asked and all, but I really don't think I can come. Besides, I don't even drink.  
OK, _that_ was another big mistake.  
Pansy looked at me as if I'd never heard of Quidditch before, or something. She went, You don't _drink_?  
I just looked at her. The truth is, when we're in France with Grandmamma, I do drink. We drink wine with dinner every night. That's just what you do in France. You don't drink it for _fun_ though. You drink it because it makes the goat cheese taste better.  
I certainly wouldn't chug a whole bottle of it, though. Not even not a dare. Not even for Draco Malfoy.  
So I just shrugged and went, No. I try to be respectful of my body, and not put a whole lot of toxins into it.  
Pansy snorted at that, but beside me, Draco Malfoy swallowed a mouthful of burger and said, I can respect that.  
Pansy's mouth dropped open. So, I'm sorry to say, did mine. Draco Malfoy respected something _I_ did? Are you _kidding_ me?  
But he looked perfectly serious. More than serious. He looked at me the way he had that day in Hogsmeade, like he could see into my soul with those crystal grey eyes of his Like he already _had_ seen into my soul  
I guess Pansy didn't notice her boyfriend looking into my soul, though. Because she said, Merlin, Draco. You drink more'n anybody else in this whole _school_.  
Draco turned his head and looked at her with those hypnotic eyes. He said, without smiling, Well, maybe I should quit, then.  
Pansy started laughing. She said, Oh, right! That'll happen!  
Draco didn't laugh, though. He just went on looking at her.  
That's when I started to get the heebie-jeebies. Draco just kept staring Pansy. I was glad he wasn't staring at _me_ like that: those grey eyes are no joke.  
I got up real fast, and grabbed my bag. Lavender and Parvati, seeing that I was doing, did the same.  
I said.   
Then we booked out of there.  
As we got out into the Entrance Hall, Lavender was like, What was _that_ all about? and I said I didn't know. But one thing for sure:  
For once, I'm kind of glad I'm not Pansy Parkinson.

**More Thursday, Charms**

When I walked out of Arithmancy just now, Draco was in the corridor. He was sort of leaning on the wall next to this painting of a guy in a crown who was having an afternoon siesta, looking around – Draco was looking around, that is, not the bloke in the painting. When he saw me coming, he straightened up and went,   
And then he smiled. A big smile, that showed all this white teeth. His perfectly straight white teeth. I had to look away, those teeth were so perfect and blindingly white.  
I said, back. I was really embarrassed, and all, since I had sort of seen him fighting with Pansy at lunch. I figured he was probably waiting for her, and that the two of them would make up, and probably French kiss all over the place, so I tried to walk on by and get the heck out of there, so I wouldn't have to watch.  
But Draco walked next to me as I was heading to the Charms corridor and started _talking_ to me. He said, I really agree with you about what you said in the Great Hall at lunch. You know, about respecting your body, and everything. I think that really, you know, a cool attitude.  
I could feel my head start spinning as I was walking along. _Draco Malfoy was talking to me_. Harry and Ron turned round a corner and saw the two of us walking together. Ron took one look at us, stopped dead in his tracks and dropped his books. I am not even kidding. He went really red and scrambled around to pick them up, then Harry, who was staring at me too, pulled Ron into Professor Flitwick's room, which is where we are now, where Ron is still shooting me this scary look.  
Anyway, while Draco was talking to me, I could feel my face starting to burn. It was sort of like I was on fire. I concentrated hard on not dropping anything, or tripping over my feet. I kind of ducked my head so my hair covered the fact that I was blushing. I said, real intelligently.  
said Draco. Are you going to the Halloween Ball with anyone?  
I dropped _The Standard Book of Spells for the Ordinary Wizarding Level_. It went skittering across the corridor. I stooped down to pick it up.  
I said, by way of answering his question.  
I was down on my hands and my knees, picking up of bits of parchment that had slid out of _TSBoSftOWL_, when I saw these knees covered in grey flannel bend. Then Draco's face was right next to mine.  
he said, and handed me my favourite quill, the lilac one that Ron gave me for my birthday last month. Ron said he thought it was funny since lilac is Gilderoy Lockhart's favourite colour. I actually think it's just a really nice quill.  
I said, taking the quill. Then I made the mistake of looking into his crystal eyes.  
I said, real faintly, because that's how his eyes made me feel: faint. I'm not going to the Halloween Ball with anyone.  
Then the bell rang.  
Draco said, Well, see you. And then he left.  
I am still in shock.  
Draco Malfoy _spoke_ to me. He actually _spoke_ to me. _Twice_.  
For the first time in like a month, I don't care that I'm flunking flying. I don't care that my parents lied to me my whole entire life and that they went and moved to another country. I don't care that I'm the heir to the throne of the heavens of Mount Olympus. I don't even care that my best friend and I aren't speaking to each other.  
I think Draco Malfoy might _like_ me.

**Homework**.  
Transfiguration: ??? Can't remember!!!  
CoMG: ??? Ask Lavender  
Potions: ???  
Flying: none  
HoM: ??? I don't know!!!  
Arithmancy: ???  
Charms: ???

Merlin, just because a boy might like me, I completely lose my head.

I disgust myself.

Continued in Part Nine...

* * *

A/N2: (You know, I almost enjoy doing these more than the story!!) I keep forgetting to mention this, but Nick is named after Nick in Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale (one of the most amazing books I have ever read), who was like the Commander's chauffeur and bodyguard stuff (although he was also more in that than Nick is in this). Darla Pratellez is named after Darla in The Bold and The Beautiful – she's just so amusing – and I just randomly made up her last name, basing it on Fernadez or whatever from TPD. Lachlan is based on Lachlan Murdoch – what a better namesake for a Slytherin than Rupert Murdoch's spawn, hey? ;o) Another thing, have you lot noticed how much I'm enjoying making all you R/Hr fundementalists squirm over Draco? ::Voldemort-ish laughter:: Those who've read TPD obviously know what's going to happen, but everyone else is just going to have to either trust me on this one and/or calm down and wait and/or run to the bookshop and buy The Princess Diaries so you don't have to wait for me to finish! ;o)

Hellos and Thank Yous – Astria, janeway216 (I totally agree with what you said about TPD, I gave up worring about the looks my brother kept shooting at me for laughing like a manic as I read them, and yeah, I'm doing the dinner thing, it'll just be at school), zenithlen, krissy, James Bow, bdwrm, Hermione13, icestar (the Halloween Ball will be like the Cultural Diversity Dance in the book), meeker, Medea Malfoy, oooo, Calder Lynch, CloudChick, Hermione(I don't know if this is the same one as before... hehe), Megan, Athena McGuire, herm, evvy, Rummi-chan, helen, Angelina and Carlin.

rio: well, actually, I didn't make Harry _that_ bad, did I? I mean, I'm actually using Neville for a lot of the things Borris did in TPD, but I just wanted to make it H/G not N/G... I've tried to make Harry more quiet and polite than a moron... and if you've read TPD you'll know that everyone is redeemed and gets what they deserve in the end, good and bad (I won't say anymore or I'll give it away for those who haven't read the book!). I find it really hard to write about Harry, because he's such an important and complex character in the canon, so I usually have him as a supporting role in all my fics, and I've said this before, but I reckon Harry's got enough glory and doesn't really have to worry about being a bit of a twit in my little parody ;o)

Also, ::mwah:: to Lyta Padfoot, K i w i (that was such a nice comment... I will ignore it because it's not actually true!!! ::sheepish grin::), Jennier Lupin and Jen who were the first people to r/r this but I never thanked them! OMG! How did I do that??

And last but certainly not least, a _huge_ THANK YOU, YOU ARE SO WONDERFUL to **L.uMiNafyre** who stuck up for me against this really ignorant flamer. I know I thanked you already, but what you did was so nice I just had to do it again. You totally made my day :o)

::hugs::


	9. Part Nine

Disclaimer:  
Everything you recognise from Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling (aka _The Goddess_ – a real one)  
Everything you recognise from The Princess Diaries belongs to Meg Cabot  
I own nothing :o)

Author's Note:  
The winner of the little competition from last chapter was **LisaQT3**!! ::Squin hands her a big bag of Oliver-flavoured Bertie Botts and awards 20 Points to Gryffindor:: She got the complete right answer, with the reason and the reason for the reason: _It is because Ginny told him that Hermione picked Draco over him about the whole who would you want to spend the end of existence with? or whatever question! That is totally why Ron said he wasn't going to the Ball Because he figured Hermione wouldn't want to go with him._ (Oh that poor, precious boy!! Don't worry baby, we all love you! Especially in a towel But I promise Hermione will see the light eventually!) YAY! Well done! :o) The runner up is Lady Norbert, who got it half right, and was also the first person to enter. Plus she's cool ;o) ::Squin hands Lady N her Oliver-beans::

Now, since it took me so long, this is a pretty long chapter as an early Xmas prezzie for everyone who's been waiting patiently (and _not_ so patiently, all those who practially sent death threats! lol!) over the last week for this (I've had my nose stuck in The Fellowship of the Ring for the last few of days. Why didn't anybody tell me earlier how cool it was? Thank you James Bow!). Enjoy! :o)

* * *

The Goddess Diaries - Part Nine

**Thursday Night**

Grandmamma says, Well, of course the boy likes you. What wouldn't he like? You are turning out very well, thanks to Paolo's handiwork and my tutelage.  
Honestly, Grandmamma, thanks. Like it would be impossible for a guy to like me for _me_, and not because all of a sudden I'm a goddess with a heck of a charmed haircut.  
I think I sort of hate her.  
I mean it. I know it's wrong to hate people, but I really do sort of hate my grandmother. At least, I strongly dislike her. I mean, besides the fact that she's totally vain and thinks only about herself, she's also kind of mean to people.  
Like tonight for instance:  
Grandmamma decided that for my lesson today, we would go out to dinner somewhere outside of the hotel, so she could teach me how to deal with the magical press. Only there was no press around when we got outside. I guess all the reporters had gone home to get their dinner (plus it's no fun for the press to stalk you when you're ready for them. It's only when you least expect it that they come around. This is how they get their kicks, as far I can see).  
Anyway, I was pretty happy about this. I thought, Hey, this is brilliant. No press. I mean, who needs horrifically brightly coloured enchanted quills getting shoved in your face?  
But then as I was getting into the car, Grandmamma said, Wait one moment, and went back inside. I thought maybe she'd forgotten her crown, or her lightning rod, or something, but she came back out a minute later and didn't have any extra implements of weather control.  
But then, as we pulled up in front of the restaurant, which was the Savoy, there were all these reporters there! At first I thought somebody important had to be there, like Prince William or Colin Firth or Madonna, but then they all started taking pictures of me, and yelling Goddess Hermione, how does it feel to grow up as a Muggle-born witch, then find out your mother's family is divine and has three hundred million Galleons? and, Goddess, what flavour of Bertie Bott's Beans are your favourite?  
I totally forgot my fear of confrontation thing. I was mad. I turned to Grandmamma in the car, and I said, How did they know we were coming here?  
Grandmamma started digging through the mini-bar. Now, where is the ice? she asked.  
You called them, didn't you? I was so mad, I could hardly even see straight. You floo-called and told them we were coming here.  
Don't be ridiculous, Grandmamma said. I had no time to floo-call all these people.  
You didn't have to. You'd just have to floo-call one, and they'd all follow. Grandmamma, _why_?  
Grandmamma poured some Odgen's and mixed her drink around. Why does she have to drink in the car? Oh, I forgot, we couldn't get out of it or we'd get ambushed by quills that write stories about things that never actually happened. This is an important part of being a deity, Hermione, she said, taking a swig. You must learn how to handle the press. Why are you talking on so?  
You're the one who told all that stuff to Darla Prattellez. I said it totally calmly.  
Of course I did, Grandmamma said, with a kind of _So what?_ shrug.  
I yelled. How could you?  
She looked totally taken aback. She said, Don't call me Grandma.  
I yelled. You have no idea what I've had to go through at school! And dad's so angry and he thought you did it, but Mum wouldn't believe him!  
Grandmamma drained her Firewhiskey. she said, always was incredibly naïve.  
I said. I'm telling her. I'm telling her the truth.  
Grandmamma just waved a hand, as if to say, _Whatever_.  
I said, I'm telling her. She's going to be really mad at you, Grandmamma.  
He won't. You needed the practice, darling. That piece in the _Prophet_ was just the beginning. Soon you'll be on the cover of _Witch Weekly_, and then –   
I yelled. I DO NOT WAT TO BE ON THE COVER OF _WITCH WEEKLY_! DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND? I JUST WANT TO PASS MY O.W.L.S!  
Grandmamma looked a little startled. Well, all right, darling, all right. You needn't _shout_.  
I don't know how much of that sunk in, but after dinner, I noticed that the reporters had all gone home. So maybe she heard me.  
When I got back to school, the whole of Gryffindor house seemed to be in the common room waiting for me. I walked straight past everyone and then ran up to my room. Oh, and now it's not just Ginny that's not talking to me. When I walked past Ron and Harry playing chess, Harry looked at me all sadly, and then he looked at Ron, who didn't look up, but I could tell he (Ron) was really mad because his ears were all red and he was totally glaring at the chess board and then he made his knight totally beat up one of Harry's poor little pawns. I can't even remember what I did wrong to _him_. This is so totally horrible.  
Oh, I forgot.  
This morning in Care of Magical Creatures Hagrid was totally trying to teach us about the life cycle of chimeras, but nobody could pay attention because of all the reporters hanging out by the fence. People kept turning around to yell at the reporters, like, Go find some real news, and, Hey, take a picture of this, accompanied by a rude gesture.  
Hagrid kept trying to bring people to order, but it was impossible. Back when Ron was still talking to me today, he told me that Ginny was getting all burned up because everyone was coming together against the reporters, but no one seems to want to go and stand outside Honeydukes and protest against them condoning gross segregation within the school.  
So anyway, in the general confusion, Pansy Parkinson asked me how long I'd known I'd been a goddess, and I couldn't believe she was actually asking me a question without being snotty about it (this was before lunch), and I was like, Well, I don't know, a couple of weeks or something, and then Pansy said if she found out she was a goddess she would go straight to Diagon Ally, and I said, No, you wouldn't, because you'd miss cheerleading practice, and then she said she didn't see why I didn't go to Diagon Ally since I'm not involved in any extracurricular activities, and then Harry asked me about my broomstick and wanted to know if I'd seen any new Quidditch strategy books while I was in Quality Quidditch Supplies last weekend, and then everybody started wondering about where the next World Cup would be held, and then Hagrid was like, Could we please return to chimeras?  
Which is probably a safer type of creature to have around, if you think about it, than reporters, since they can't totally ruin your life. They just kill you.

I wish I could tell Ginny about Draco Malfoy speaking to me.

**Friday 25 October 2001, Transfiguration**

MERLIN'S BEARD!!!  
DRACO AND PANSY BROKE UP!!!  
I am not even kidding. It's all over school. Draco broke up with her last night after Quidditch practice. They were going back to the Slytherin dungeon when Draco pulled Pansy into Professor Snape's classroom, and he asked for his house scarf back!!! Pansy was completely humiliated with pickled animals in glass jars up all over the walls around her!  
I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy.  
Pansy didn't show up to breakfast this morning, and then when I saw her in Potions, her eyes were all red and squinty, and her hair looked like it hadn't been brushed, let alone washed, and her thigh-highs had come unglued, and were all baggy around her knees. I never thought I'd see Pansy Parkinson looking like a mess!!!  
Before class started, she was writing an owl to Gladrags, to see if she could return her Halloween Ball dress robes, even though she's already removed the tags. Then during class, she sat there with a big black Magick Marker crossing out _Mrs Draco Malfoy_ from where she'd written it all over her book covers.  
Draco just sat up the back with Crabbe and Goyle working on their Restoring Potion, completely ignoring Pansy.  
It was so depressing. I could hardly pound up my dried mandrake shoots, I was so distracted.

**I wish I were:**  
1. Five foot six.  
2. Good at flying.  
3. The Minister of Magic.  
4. Still friends with Ginny Weasley.  
5. Draco Malfoy's new girlfriend.

**More Friday**

You will not even believe what just happened. I was in the library looking up something for my Runes essay on Stonehenge, and Draco Malfoy was there, in the aisle where the book I wanted was. He saw me and smiled and I smiled back, and then I totally started concentrating on looking for a book. Any book. Then he goes, in this totally casual way, Hey, Hermione, who you going to the Ball with tomorrow?  
Needless to say, the fact that he actually spoke to me at all practically caused me to pass out. And then the fact that he was actually saying something that sounded like it might be a prelude to asking me out – well, I nearly threw up. I mean it. I felt really sick, but in a good way.  
I think.  
Somehow, I managed to stammer out, Uh, no one, and he goes, and I KID YOU NOT:  
Well, why don't we go together?  
OH QUEEN MAB!!! DRACO MALFOY ASKED ME OUT!!!!  
I was so shocked I couldn't say anything at all for like a minute. I thought I was going to hyperventilate, like that time at the end of 1st Year when I thought that Ron was dead after he got hit by the queen of the giant chess set Professor McGonagall had transfigured to guard the Philosopher's Stone. I could only look up at him (he's so tall!).  
Then a funny thing happened. This tiny part of my brain – the only part that wasn't completely stunned by the fact that DRACO MALFOY HAD JUST ASKED ME OUT – went, He's only asking you because you're a Goddess of Mount Olympus.  
Seriously. That's what I thought, for just a second.  
Then this other part of my brain, a much bigger part, went, SO WHAT???  
I mean, maybe he asked me to the Ball because he respects me as a human being and wants to get to know me better and maybe, just maybe, he likes me, sort of.  
It could happen.  
So the part of my brain that was rationalizing all this made me go, all nonchalantly, Yeah, OK. That might be fun.  
Then Draco said a bunch of stuff about how he'd meet me in the Entrance Hall beforehand, or something. But I barely heard him. Because inside my head, this voice was going:  
Draco Malfoy just asked you out. DRACO MALFOY just asked YOU out. DRACO MALFOY JUST ASKED YOU OUT!!!!!  
I think I must have died and gone to heaven. Because it had happened. It had finally happened: Draco Malfoy had finally looked into my soul. He had looked into my soul and saw the real me, the one beneath the test scores. AND THEN HE'D ASKED ME OUT.  
Then the bell rang, and Draco went away, and I just kept standing there, until Nick poked me in the arm.  
I don't know what Nick's problem is. I _know_ he's not my personal secretary.  
But thank Merlin he was there, or I'd never have known that Draco was going to meet me in the Entrance Hall tomorrow night at seven thirty. I'm going to have to learn not to be so shocked the next time he asked me out, or I'll never get the hang of this whole dating Draco Malfoy thing.

**Things to do:**  
1. Get new dress robes.  
2. Get hair done.  
3. Get nails redone (stop biting fake ones off).

**Friday, After Flying**

OK, so I don't know who Ginny Weasley thinks she is. First she stops talking to me. Then, when she finally does deign to speak to me, it's only to criticize me some more. What right has she got, I ask you, to dump all over my Halloween Ball date? I mean, _she's_ going with Harry Potter. _Harry Potter_. Yeah, he might be The Boy Who Lived and all, but he's still _Harry Potter_.  
Ginny goes: Well, at least I know Harry isn't on the rebound.  
Excuse me. Draco Malfoy is _not_ on the rebound. He and Pansy had been broken up for sixteen whole hours before he asked me out.  
Ginny goes: Plus Harry's not a _Death Eater_.  
I swear, for someone so smart and assertive, Ginny sure does go for the whole rumour and innuendo thing in a major way. I asked her if she's ever _seen_ Draco in a Death Eater mask or if she _knew_ for a _fact_ that he had a Dark Mark, and she looked at me all sarcastically.  
But really, if you think about it, there isn't any _proof_ that Draco is a Death Eater. His dad is definitely one, but hey, Seamus's dad is a Muggle and that doesn't make _him_ one.  
Ginny didn't like that argument, though. She went, You're over-rationalizing. Whenever you over-rationalize, Hermione, I know you're worried.  
I am _not_ worried. I am going to the biggest dance of the autumn term with the cutest, most sensitive boy in the school, and nothing anyone can do or say will make me feel bad about that.  
Except that it does kind of make me feel weird, seeing Pansy looking so sad, and Draco looking like he doesn't care at all. Today at lunch, he and his entourage sat with Lavender and Parvati and me again, and Pansy and her entourage sat back at the Slytherin table. It was just so _strange_. Plus neither Draco nor any of his friends talked to me or Lavender and Parvati. They just talked to each other. Which didn't bother Lavender or Parvati any, but it kind of bothered me. Especially since Pansy kept trying so hard not to look over in our direction.  
Lavender and Parvati didn't say anything bad about Draco when I told them the news. They just got very excited and said I should come over to their dorm room tonight and try on different outfits and experiment with my hair to see what will look best for tomorrow night. Actually, Lavender and Parvati are almost more excited than I am. They are much more supportive friends than Ginny, who went, all sarcastically, Where's he meeting you before? The torture chamber in the dungeons?  
I said, very sarcastically back. The Entrance Hall.  
Ginny went, Oh, how imaginative.  
Well, duh, where else would I meet him?  
Then Ron, who had been very quiet (for him) all day, looked at Nick and went, You're going too, right?  
And Nick went, Oh, yes. And the two of them looked at each other in that infuriating way guys look at each other sometimes, like they have this secret. You know in Year 5 at primary school, when they made all of us girls go into this other room to watch a video about getting our periods and stuff? I bet while we were gone, the boys were watching a video about how to look at each other in that infuriating way.  
Or maybe a cartoon, or something.  
But now that I think of it, Draco _is_ kind of dissing Pansy. I mean, he probably shouldn't have asked out another girl so soon after breaking up with her – at least, not to something he was going to go to with her. Know what I mean? I kind of feel bad about the whole thing.

But not bad enough not to go.

**From now on I will:**  
1. Be nicer to everyone, even Pansy Parkinson.  
2. Never ever bite my fingernails, even the fake ones.  
3. Write faithfully in this journal everyday.  
4. Stop re-reading _Hogwarts, A History_ for the seventy-nineth millionth time and use my time wisely, like to study flying tips, or maybe find a cure for lycanthropy, or something.

**Friday Night**

I was pretty worried about my lesson with Grandmamma today, but she had pretty much gotten over me yelling at her yesterday about the press. She was totally into helping me figure out what I'm going to wear tomorrow night, just like I knew she would. She got on the floo with Madam Malkin, and set up an appointment for tomorrow to pick something out. It will have to be a rush job, and will cost a fortune, but she says she doesn't care: it will be my first formal event as a representative of Mount Olympus, and I have to sparkle' (her word, not mine).  
I pointed out to her that it was a school dance, not an inauguration ball, or something, that it's it was just a stupid ball to celebrate Halloween and is more of an excuse to dance and wear dress robes than celebrate anything seriously since it's not even on Halloween night. But Grandmamma went ape anyway, and kept on worrying that there wouldn't be time to dye shoes to match my dress robes.  
I reminded her that as we are magical, it should be a snap, but there sure is a lot of stuff about being a girl that I never realized. Like having your shoes match your dress robes. I didn't know that was so important. Last year at the Yule Ball my shoes were silver and my dress robes were blue was that a bad thing?  
But Lavender and Parvati sure know. You should see their room, they must have ever woman's magazine ever printed, even Muggle ones like _Vogue_ and _Cosmopolitan_. They are in order on shelves all around their room, which I can't believe I didn't notice over the past four years. Oh, they just told me it's all new this year. Good, I thought I was totally ignorant.  
So Ron's still totally not talking to me. What _is_ it with the Weasleys this week, anyway? All though Ron was nice all up until yesterday Charms What is wrong with him??? He helped me out in Flying like usual, but I was too distracted by Draco Malfoy having asked me out that I might have been a bit rude to him. But still, he's got no reason to be mad that I'm going to the Ball with Draco, right? I mean, _he's_ not even going. Why should he care? Why do I care that he cares?  
Gaaaah! Ron's just so so _infuriating_.  
Well, no, he did talk to me, because when I was in the common room tonight, he asked me to move my books off the chess table. Merlin.  
Anyway, Lavender also has a thing for teenage love novels, I found out. After we'd hung out and they did all these things with my hair, like this cool charm Parvati knows to put my hair into curls, which I thought was sort of redundant since my hair used to be curly, and Paolo straightened it last weekend, we sat around and read some of them. They were really funny. In a sort of stupid way.  
But I swear, there wasn't a single one where the boy broke up with a snotty girl and started going out with the heroine right away. Usually he waited a tactful amount of time, like a summer, or at least a weekend, before asking her out. The only ones with a guy who started going out with the heroine straight way turned out to be the ones where the guy was just using the girl to get revenge, or something.  
But then Lavender said even though she loves reading those books, she never takes them as a guide to real life. Because how many times in real life does anybody ever get amnesia? And when to cute young European terrorists ever take anybody hostage in the girls' locker room? And if they did, wouldn't it be on the day when you're wearing your worst underwear, the kind with the holes and the loose elastic, and a bra that doesn't match, and not a pink silk camisole and French knickers, like the heroine of that particular book?  
She has a point.  
Oh, great. Ginny just came in to ask if Lavender or Parvati can help her out on a Divination assignment, and she looked at me all meanly. So I said goodnight to Lavender and Parvati and came back to my room. I should go to bed now, or something. It's been a long day.

**Saturday October 27 2001**

This morning I got a note from Professor McGonagall at breakfast, which said that Mum wanted to talk to me about something so would I please go to her (Prof McG's) office at 10.  
What Mum wanted to talk to me about, I never found out.  
When I got to her office, Professor McGonagall was just chatting to my mother's head in the fireplace and when Mum asked me how I was, I told her that I was wonderful, because I got asked to the Halloween Ball by someone! Mum said that _was_ wonderful, and asked me who the – get this – _lucky guy_ was and I sort of giggled and said his name was Draco and –   
That was when Professor McGonagall interrupted. She was all, You don't mean Draco _Malfoy_, do you?  
I got kind of mad, because she sounded I don't know. Shocked or something.  
I said, Yes, I mean, Draco Malfoy, I didn't know there were any other Dracos at this school. He and I are going to the Halloween Ball together.  
Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows over the top of her square glasses. What about Pansy Parkinson?  
It kind of sucks having a private conversation with your mother in a teacher's office. I went, They broke up.  
Mum was watching us pretty closely. She went, Who's Draco Malfoy?  
And I went, Only the cutest, most sensitive boy in the whole school.  
Professor McGonagall snorted and said, Well, the most popular, anyway.  
To which my Mum replied, with a lot of surprise, And he asked _Hermione_ to the Ball?  
Needless to say, this was not very flattering. When your own mother knows it's weird for the cutest, most popular boy in the school to ask you to the Ball, you know you're in trouble.  
I said, all defensively.  
I don't like this, Professor McGonagall said. And when my Mum asked her why, she said, Because I know Draco Malfoy.  
My Mum went, Uh oh. I don't like the sound of that, and before I could say anything in Draco's defence, Professor McGonagall went, That boy is going one hundred kilometres per hour, which doesn't even make sense.  
At least it didn't until Mum pointed out that since I'm only going five kilometres per hour (FIVE!) she was going to have to consult my father about this.  
Hello? Consult him about what? What am I, a cauldron with a bottom that isn't of a standard thickness? What's this five kilometres per hour stuff?  
He's fast, Hermione, Professor McGonagall translated.  
Fast? FAST? What is this, the Fifties? Draco Malfoy is a rebel without a cause all of a sudden?  
My Mum went, after she had yelled for my Dad to stick his head in the fire, You're a Gryffindor, you shouldn't be going out with Slytherins anyway.  
How unfair is THAT? I finally get a date, and all of a sudden my parents turn into Mike and Carol Brady crossed with Mr and Mrs Honeyduke. I mean, come on!  
HELLO? SCHOOL UNITY, ANYONE???  
So I was standing there, listening to my Mum and Dad go on about how they both think I'm too young to date, and that the whole thing with Vikor Krum just started the ball rolling and now things are out of hand, and that I SHOULDN'T date, since this has been a very confusing time for me, what with finding out that I'm a goddess and all. They were planning out the rest of my life (no dating until I'm eighteen, all-girls dorm when I go to university, etc) when there was a knock on Professor McGonagall's door.  
When Professor McGonagall called out and asked who it was, this all-too familiar voice went, This is Hera Artemis Onassis Acropolis. Who is _this_?  
Across the room, my Dad's head disappeared out of the fireplace with a pop' and my Mum's jaw dropped open. It was Grandmamma. Grandmamma had come to Hogwarts!  
I never in my life thought I'd be grateful to Grandmamma for something. I never thought I'd be glad to see her. But when she showed up at school to take me shopping for my dress robes, I could have kissed her – on both cheeks, even – I really could have. Because I opened the door for her, and I was like, Grandmamma, they won't let me go!  
I forgot Grandmamma had never been to Hogwarts before. I forgot that Professor McGonagall was there. All I cold think about was the fact that my parents were trying to low-ball me about Draco. Grandmamma would take care of it, I knew.  
And boy, did she ever.  
Grandmamma came bursting in, giving Professor McGonagall a very dirty look and making this sniffing sound and walking right by her to the fireplace where my Mum's head was gulping in the flames.  
my Mum said, looking like a kid who'd just been caught by Filch, out of bed at midnight with a pocketful of Dungbombs. What are you doing here?  
Grandmamma gave my Mum the Evil Eye. Listen here, Helen, she said. Your daughter is going to the Ball with her beau. I travelled from London by enchanted limo to take her shopping for new dress robes, and if you think I'm not going to watch her dance in it, then you can just –   
Then my grandmother used some pretty colourful language. Well, I think she did, because she was speaking in Greek but I've only been learning it for a week and a half and we haven't got up to the swear words yet, so I wasn't quite sure.  
After my grandmother had finished telling my mother where she could get off, she _humfed_ and put her hands on her hips and gave her another dose of the Evil Eye. Professor McGonagall looked nervous. I've never seen Professor McGonagall looking nevous.  
Then, and I couldn't believe it, but my Dad's head popped back into the fireplace. Now look here, Hera, my father said, sounding very mad. I was shocked. My father was actually speaking to my grandmother! He avoids her like the Dark Mark! Don't you dare try to tell me how to raise my child! Helen and I have already decided she isn't going out with this boy. You can't just come here and –   
my grandmother said. Go and get your cloak.  
I went. When I got back, my father's face was really red, my mother's was really white, and Professor McGonagall was looking at the floor. But none of them said anything as Grandmamma and I left Professor McGonagall's office.  
Once we were outside, I was so excited, I could hardly stand it. I yelled. What'd you _say_ to them? What'd you say to convince them to let me go?  
But Grandmamma just laughed in this scary way and said, I have my ways.  
Boy, did I ever not hate her then.

To be continued...

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A/N2: Well, after over month, the finale of this little escapade into HP Crossover land should (and I emphasise the word _should_) be up by the end of this week! I almost don't want it to end! ::sniff:: Will Hermione snap out of her little starry-eyed dellusion? What has Draco _really_ got in mind? Will Ron manage to tell Hermione how he feels or will he continue with the whole pissed-off thing? Find out in Part Ten, because, and I'll let you all know now, this will NOT be ending exactly like The Princess Diairies!!! ::foreboding pleonastic music:: Oh, what fun!!! ::evil Voldemort-ish laughter:: Oh, well, it won't be THAT bad, just not exactly the same :o)

Princess in Love: OK, I have absolutely _no idea_ how TPD3 got published in Australia before it was published in the US. I mean, it's written by an American, about an American and set in America. And we always get EVERYTHING like 2 months later! I think the UK/Aus publishers (Pan Macmillan) must have gotten carried away. Anyway. If any of you guys are desperate to get your hands on a copy, you can order online it from www.dymocks.com.au – just search for Cabot, Meg in the search box and select the author' button. Remember that the Aussie dollar is worth _shite_, so it actually shouldn't be that expensive if you're really, _really_ desperate ;o) Oh and it's in British/Australian English so color = colour and cell phones = mobiles etc, but hey you can wait until April if you WANT ;o) You guys are right, I should SO totally get paid for this!!! ;o) I guess if I ever get sued, I can just say I was doing our dear MC a BIG favour!

Greetings and Thankses to the new reviewers since last chapter -- Jamie, Jxws, Sasami, fanficfan, TheGirlWhoLived, SlytherinAngel (I just LOVE that smiley thing you do with the halo, it is so cute!), LoPotter (Why hello, my Scary Twin. It's not like I don't talk to you enough, but I'll say hi now anyway! Oh, and everyone go read her D/Hr fic Never Is A Promise, it is totally cool!), JazzPizza (HI! Nice to meet you! lol), Lady (ok, ok, you guilt-tripped me into allowing anon reviews again!), moonbeam, DaYdReAmEr01 (I am so confused, because Part 8 was up the whole time you were waiting for it! Glad you finally found it!), RLupin, Ivy Leaves, jus1digigirl, Archer, Quirky, whippy, UnknownGirl, and Incitata (thanks for all the London help!).

And to all of you WONDERFUL people who keep coming back for more, again, THANK YOU! You know I wouldn't continue if it wasn't for you guys always making me smile when I read your messages! ::mwah::


	10. Part Ten

Disclaimer:  
Everything you recognise from Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling (aka _The Goddess_ – a real one)  
Everything you recognise from The Princess Diaries belongs to Meg Cabot  
_Ambrosia Vodka – Drink of the Gods_' belongs to Gwenn, from her story On Falling (go read it, it's BRILLIANT!)  
I own nothing :o)

Author's Note:  
Sorry this is late, but I hope it's long enough to make up for my tardyness! Well Wow. We're here. At the end. I can't believe it! ::takes out a hanky and blows nose:: It's been such a blast! Thank you to everyone who's laughed and let me know, it really, truly means a lot to me! Who knew when I started this that I'd end up with reviews numbering 300ish and would end up nudging a whole load of HP fans to start reading The Princess Diaries?! It's been great, it really, truly has!

OK, so although the general storyline's the same, this chapter is a little off from what exactly happens in TPD – I even wrote an original entry! I am so proud of myself! :oD – and I hope it doesn't _divinely suck_ (::cough::) and works better for the Hogwarts context. Plus the small change to the plot at the end lets me skive off doing the sequel, heh heh heh, but I think you'll like it! :o)  
Fifty house points and more Oliver-beans to anyone who can tell me which argument in canon was the basis for the last bit of the dialogue in the tiff that Ron and Hermione have in the first entry of this chapter. It's sort of obscure, but we'll see if anyone gets it.

Thank yous new from last chapter to: Dé[]_ª¥D RéÅç+ïºñ, Aurin, maryd, mickey (who gets Oliver-beans for coming up with the most creative idea for that question from Part Eight – see reviews), Jonpotter, Tiger Starr, Helen, Caitlin, Ninth Lady, Princess Nightshade, Adnap Nottap, Black Aura, cn, giggles, moonbeam, pokey, Jessie M. Potter, Ginny Ha-Ha and Lady Louisa. Oh, and just a quick little message for **Kate**: Leave. A. Review, gosh darn it!!!  


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The Goddess Diaries - Part Ten

_She gets kidnapped. He gets killed.  
But it all ends up okay.  
_ – video jacket cover of The Princess Bride

**Saturday Afternoon**

You know what? I have had enough of whatever is wrong with Ronald Weasley. ENOUGH.  
E-N-O-U-G-H. I ask you, who on Earth gave him permission to act like a complete and utter prat? I mean it. Not that he ever waits for permission to act like a like a well. I don't like swearing, so you get the idea.  
Humph.  
I got back to school just now, after a marathon day of beauty at Chez Paolo and about an hour in Madam Malkin's until we found some dress robes that Grandmamma approved of, and the last thing I needed was to see Ron sitting in an armchair facing the portrait hole, ready to bite the first-person-to-climb-through's head off. Actually, for all I know, he could have been waiting to yell at _me_, since he seemed to be quite prepared.  
And let me tell you, I was in no mood to be messed with. I had had my LEGS WAXED. And the incompetent hag who did it forgot to put on a Numbing Charm and let me tell you, it HURT. And if you don't think that getting your legs waxed hurts, you are _mental_. Merlin, I'm telling you, who needs the Cruciatus Curse when you could just wax your victim's legs? I mean it.  
So I climbed into the common room with my hair all out and straight, my face all made up, carrying my new dress robes in a bag, in a rather bad mood, and I didn't really expect to see anyone since it was another Hogsmeade weekend – Professor Dumbledore had allowed another one so that people could get any last minute things for the Ball – but there was Ron, sitting in a wing chair by a window with some book in his lap, totally glaring at me.  
I said, as I looked over at him.  
He just kept on glaring. Only now his face started to go red. It was mad red, not embarrassed red (I can tell, I haven't been friends with him for this long to not know how his colour-coded-emotion-signalling-system works).  
Ron? What? I said, starting to get annoyed. I hate it when he goes quiet. It means he's getting ready to explode. The calm before the storm, or whatever.  
said Ron.  
I waited for the rest of it. He said nothing.  
So _what_? I said. It was getting ridiculous.  
So you've got yourself all prettied up for the Ball again, said Ron. How _nice_.  
How nice of _him_ to sound so sarcastically mocking.  
I stared at him. Glad you like it, I said, all sarcastically back.  
Ron snorted. But it wasn't a laughing snort, though. It was an annoyed snort.  
I said again. What is your problem?  
My problem is that _you_ – he started yelling really quickly. Then stopped again and looked at me. There was like this totally long silence. Why Malfoy? he said, finally. He kind of said it really softly, but loud enough for me to hear.  
Because he asked me! I said, all exasperatedly.  
Ron blinked at me. Then he shook his head.  
I practically cried out.  
He pushed himself out of his chair and marched right up to me. You don't get it, do you? he said, all meanly.  
Get what? What have you got against Draco? What, Ron? _What_? I was getting _really_ sick of saying what' all the time.  
First _Vicky_, now _Draco_, Ron said, all scowling. Who're you going to the next ball with, Hermione? _Vol_ – ? He stopped yelling really abruptly when he realised he was about to say You-Know-Who's name.  
I just looked at him like I couldn't believe he said that. Which I couldn't. Who is _he_ to tell me who I can and can't go to a ball with? I'm asking you, WHO. IS. HE. TO. SAY. THAT? I mean, if _he_ wanted to go to the Halloween Ball with me, then, yes, he'd have every right to be mad at me. Because then he would be jealous. But he _doesn't_ want to go the Ball with me, because HE. NEVER. ASKED. ME. He could have, too. Asked me, I mean. He totally could have asked me a million times. And I totally would have gone with him, too. I mean it. I practically TOLD him last year to invite me to the next ball. Remember? Ask me before someone else does and not as a last resort. I remember it off by heart because I spent so long running _that_ particular fight over and over in my head and kicking myself for having been so blatantly _obvious_. I mean, I practically spelled it out for him. If he had asked me, I. WOULD. HAVE. GONE. WITH. HIM. But did he ask me? No. Why? Because HE. DOESN'T. WANT. TO. GO. WITH. ME. He doesn't even want to _go_, period.  
Ron being a dunderhead over me going to the Ball with Draco has _nothing_ to do with being jealous. It has _nothing_ to do with the fact that he wants to go with me but someone asked me first. It, however, has EVERYTHING to go with the fact that he is totally a complete and utter _prat_. It's as simple as that.  
So then I got pretty mad at Ron. First Ginny, now you. Great, I said, raising my voice. Everyone hates me and now they hate me even more because Draco Malfoy happens to like me and he asked me to the Halloween Ball.  
Ron went pale. I mean it. All the colour just totally drained from his face.  
But I just have one question, I said, stepping closer to him. Why. Do. You. Care? With each word, I jabbed him in the chest with the newly French manicured index finger of the hand that wasn't holding the bag with my new dress robes in it (well, all my fingers had been French manicured, not just my index finger on the hand that wasn't holding the bag with my new dress robes in it. I just used that finger to jab Ron).  
Ron looked right down at me. You don't get it, do you? he said.  
I looked up at him (he's even taller than Draco Malfoy) and felt my eyes getting narrower and my mouth getting smaller like what happens when I get really, really mad. Because that was what I was. Really, really mad. Get. _What_. Ron? I said, really, really loudly, so that the volume of my voice matched the volume of my madness (as in angriness, not mental caseness. If anyone was acting like a mental case, it was Ron).  
Ron shook his head and started tutting sarcastically. You're the top student at Hogwarts, but you just can't even see what's right in front of you, can you, Hermione?  
My eyes got narrower. I can see _exactly_ what's in front of me, thank you very much. I can see _you_ acting like a complete and utter prat! I yelled.  
That's hardly it, Hermione, said Ron, all harshly  
Well then, Ron, I said. Tell me what I'm missing here.  
Oh come _on_, Hermione. Isn't _obvious_? said Ron, with a look of maddening superiority.  
If you don't want to tell me, don't, I snapped.  
said Ron.  
I said.  
Then we both just stood there for like five minutes. Seriously. Just looking at each other all madly and breathing very loudly, the only difference between him and me being that he was looking down and I was looking up. I can't tell you how mad I was.  
Then I just walked away.  
You know, I think we've had that exact same argument before, only the other way around.  
I only just now realised how close to him I was standing. It didn't occur to me at the time, I was too mad to notice. He smelled like soap  
Oh _no_ I just got a towel image. Bad, bad, _bad_. STOP. IT.  
OK.  
So.  
Moving on.  
There was another really important reason why I didn't notice how close to Ron I was standing, too. Another reason than the fact I was really man, I mean. I didn't notice because I was trying really hard not to cry. I mean it. He was being so totally mean, the way he was staring at me, all angry-red in the face. When he gets me really mad when we fight, Ron sometimes also makes me want to cry. I try to never cry in front of him though – that would give him the satisfaction of knowing he got to me. But he _does_ get to me. I don't like fighting with him. I really don't. So anyway, I didn't notice how close he was standing because was trying not to cry because otherwise he'd know he'd gotten to me.  
Not that it matters that I was standing really close to him. I just had to point out that he was making me cry, even though I tried really hard not to.  
I mean, I had all the makeup that Paolo had piled on me on. It took him a really long time too, to put all that makeup on, so I wouldn't want to mess it up, no matter I stupid I think I look in it all. That wouldn't be very nice of me to mess up all of Paolo's hard work.  
And speaking of makeup and stuff, I should get ready.

Vocabulary Building Exercise – Definition of the Day  
_Ron Weasley_: (noun) complete and utter prat. eg, _Stop being such a Ron Weasley_.

**Saturday night, 7:15pm, my room**

Well, I'm sitting here in my new dress robes, which are actually quite stunning. I actually think I sort of look nice in them. Who am I kidding? I look better than I have in my whole entire life! Old Madam Malkin, she really outdid herself – these dress robes are HOT: they're red silk, and they are so soft and really, really floaty (actually, these dress robes are even floatier than my dress robes for the Yule Ball last year), and come all the way down to my matching red silk high heels. With my hair being blonde and all now, I kind of think I resemble a flame. According to Madam Malkin, this is the look of the new millennium: flames are _in_.  
Ok, I should go downstairs now, Lavender just came in and said Nick is waiting down in the common room for me. Yeah, Dad said I can go to the Ball with Draco as long as Nick goes with me. This is no big thing since I totally expected that Nick would go, anyway. But I pretended to be really mad when Nick told me so that when he told my Dad, he (my Dad) wouldn't think I was getting off too easy.  
I am totally going to have the most excellent time! I just know it! Nothing anyone – including Ginny and _especially_ Ron – can do or say is going to make it bad.  
I'm going to leave this book here, but I'll tell you _all_ about it tomorrow!

**More Saturday night, First Floor Girls' Bathroom**

OK, so I lied. I just Summoned this book from my room. I just felt like writing in it since well since so far the Halloween Ball hasn't been all that fun.  
When I got down to the common room, Harry and Ginny were talking to Ron, who looked just as mad as he did when I left him there this afternoon. They kept saying something to him and he just kept shaking his head. Then he saw me and like totally glared at me. Nick was talking to him too, actually. Great, now my bodyguard's in league with people who don't like me.  
So then I went out of Gryffindor tower with Nick, Lavender and Seamus and Parvati and Dean. But when I got to the Entrance Hall, Draco wasn't there! I was freaking. I mean it. I thought I had gotten stood up! I was so ready to cry. I told the other four to go on in without me, and Nick got out his wand and started polishing it with his robes. I bet my Dad told him to hex Draco if he tried to make a move on me. Which I thought didn't have any chance whatsoever of happening since he hadn't shown up. But then I thought, maybe something happened to hold him up. I mean, anything could have gone wrong. He might have accidentally oh, I don't know.  
Then anyway, while I was stressing, at like 7:45, Draco came up the stairs from the dungeons, and came over to me. And you wouldn't even believe what he did:  
He took my hand and he kissed it!!! So what if he was a little late? Dinner didn't start until 8:00 anyway. Then he gave me my corsage (tiny white roses tied together with pink ribbon, totally gorgeous: it must have cost him ten galleons at _least_. I couldn't help thinking, though, that he'd originally picked it out for another girl, who had different coloured dress robes) and hooked his arm around mine and walked me inside to Great Hall, which was all decorated with floating Jack-o-lanterns and everything. (Nick promised he wouldn't come and sit with us. He said he would stand by the doors and look at everybody who came in in a mean way, like a security troll – only, as I noticed a bunch of 7th Years had noticed, he looked better than a security troll.)  
There were lots of little tables instead of the House tables, like the Yule Ball last year. It was sort of dark and I couldn't see Lavender and Parvati or anybody, even though I was looking for them. But then Draco sort of dragged me over to a table near the back where all his entourage from the Slytherin Quidditch team and their cheerleader girlfriends were already sitting.  
I have to say, everyone has been pretty nice. The girls all complimented me on my dress robes and asked me questions about being a goddess, like how weird was it to wake up and see your picture on the front of the _Prophet_, and do I ever make earthquakes, and stuff like that. Most of them are 7th Years, as Draco's the youngest player on his Quidditch team (AND he's captain!), so they're pretty mature. None of them have made comments about how I can't fly a broomstick, or anything, like Pansy would have, if she'd been here.  
But then, if Pansy were here, I wouldn't be.  
Dinner didn't go as great as I thought it would, though. I mean, there's only one fork to use so it's nothing to get freaked out about, and I do know from Grandmamma how to tilt my soup bowl away from me, but that's not it:  
It's Draco.  
Don't get me wrong. He looks totally hot in his dress robes. He told me he got them in Italy over the summer. His family are friends with the Italian Minister of Magic, and he escorted his girlfriend before Pansy (the Italian MoM's daughter) to heaps of really important parties and Balls and stuff.  
I don't know why Draco told me this. Am I supposed to be impressed by who his ex-girlfriend's dad is? He isn't acting very sensitively, if you ask me.  
The thing is, he's hardly even talking to me. We actually don't have a lot to say to each other. I mean, when he met me in the Entrance Hall, Draco was like, You look really nice in those dress robes, and I said I liked his, and thanked him for my corsage. And then we didn't say anything to each other for like, twenty minutes.  
I am not even kidding. I was so embarrassed! I mean, I hang out with boys quite a lot. Two of my best friends are boys, and I don't have any problems with THEM. I mean, Ron practically never shuts up. I thought about asking him who he'd rather spend eternity with if it was the end of the world and he had to choose, Celestina Warbeck or Madam Rosmerta, but I didn't feel like I knew him well enough  
The thing that surprised me most was when Draco conjured up a bottle of vodka, which he passed around to the rest of the table. Alcohol! I couldn't believe it. How irresponsible can you get? And Draco is a prefect! When he offered me some, I politely said, No, thank you, even when he said, Oh come on, it's _Ambrosia Vodka – Drink of the Gods_! with this smirk on his face because I suppose he thought it was funny.  
And _then_, without even asking me, Draco ordered dinner for the whole table: filet mignon for everyone. I guess that's very nice and all, but I won't eat meat, not even for the most sensitive boy in the world, which Draco isn't really acting like tonight. I just wish he had asked me. He had no problem asking me about the vodka.  
And he hasn't even noticed that I haven't touched my food! I totally had to fill up on salad and bread rolls to keep from starving to death.  
Maybe I could sneak out of here and get something from the kitchens. But I guess the poor house elves will be really busy and over worked, I wouldn't want to bother them.  
And the funny thing is, the more vodka Draco has to drink, the more he keeps on touching me. Like he keeps on putting his hand on my leg under the table. At first I thought it was a mistake, but he's done it four times now. The last time, he squeezed!  
I don't think he's drunk, exactly, but he's certainly friendlier than he was in the first half-hour. Maybe he's feeling less inhibited, with Nick not hovering around right behind me (he was sort of leaning against the wall trying to ignore all these 6th Year Ravenclaw girls – including Cho Chang! – who keep trying to catch his eye).  
Well, I guess I should go back out there. I just wish Draco had told me we'd be sitting with all his friends. Then maybe I could have asked Lavender, Parvati, Dean and Seamus – or even Ginny and Harry – to come and sit with us. Then at least I'd have someone fun to talk to.  
Oh, well. Here goes nothing.

**Later Saturday night, My Room, Gryffindor Tower**

Why?  
Why??  
Why???  
I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe this is happening to ME!  
WHY? WHY ME? WHY IS IT ALWAYS ME these things have to happen to????  
I'm trying to remember what Grandmamma told me, about how to act under duress. Because I am definitely under duress. I keep trying to breath in through my nose, out through my mouth like Grandmamma said. In through my nose, out through my –   
HOW COULD HE DO THIS TO ME??? HOW, HOW, HOW??????????!!!!!  
I could rip his stupid face off. I could hex him to Antarctica and back. I could slap him harder than I did in 3rd Year. I really could. I mean, who does he think he is? Do you know what he did? Do you know what he did? Well, let me tell you what he did:  
So, after finishing of all that vodka, Draco decided that instead of dancing we should go for a walk outside. Oh, gee, let me see, this is a ball, isn't dancing what you're SUPPOSED to do?  
So we head out of the Great Hall and I was thinking, maybe everything would be alright, since while we were walking, Draco had his arm around my shoulders, which was really nice, since my dress robes are sleeveless, and even though I have a wrap, it's just this shimmery see-through veil thing. So I'm appreciative of his arm since it's keeping me warm. It's a nice arm, really, very muscular from all that Snitch-catching. The only problem is, Draco doesn't smell that good, not like Ron, who always smells like soap. No, I think Draco must have taken a bath in aftershave, or something, a kind of aftershave that in large doses actually smells pretty vile. I could hardly breathe, but whatever. In spite of that, I'm thinking, OK, things aren't that bad. Yes, he didn't respect my rights as a vegetarian, but you know, everybody makes mistakes. And I can't stop him from drinking. That's his choice; I have no control over his choices. Like I said, everybody makes mistakes. We'll just get away from his friends and he'll look into my soul again with those crystal grey eyes and everything will be all right.  
Boy, was I ever wrong.  
First of all, we could hardly get out onto the grounds, which didn't have any decorations or anything, which actually surprised me. I guess last year they had all those ice statues and stuff to show off to everyone from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons.  
But I digress.  
At first I couldn't figure out why so many people were hanging around outside, a little way down the path from the oak front doors so you can't see them until you're already a bit outside Yes, lots of people leave balls to go snogging in the rose bushes, or whatever, but there shouldn't be THAT many people out there, right? I mean, at least, not right out in the open.  
And then I realised why there's so many people. There are reporters standing all over the place, smoking Billywigs, testing out their Quick-Quotes Quills, waiting.  
Waiting for what?  
Waiting for me, it turns out.  
As soon as Nick saw the reporters he started to swear very colourfully in some language that wasn't English, French or Greek. But you could tell they were swear words by his voice. I turned around to him and was like, How could they have known? How could they have known? Could Grandmamma have told him?  
But you know, I really don't think Grandmamma would have done this. I really don't. Not after our talk. I laid it on the line for Grandmamma. I came down on her like an Auror on a Death Eater. Grandmamma would not, I'm sure, EVER call the press on me again, without my permission.  
But there they all were, and SOMEBODY floo-called or owled them, all right, and if it wasn't Grandmamma, then who was it?  
Draco was totally unconcerned by the Quick-Quotes Quills and cameras and everything. He goes, So what? You ought to be used to it by now.  
Oh, right. Let me tell you how used to it I am by now. So used to it that the sight of these reporters walking over to me, even with the arm of the cutest boy in the school around me, made me feel like I was going to barf up all of that salad and bread.  
Come on, Draco said. You and I can make a run for it while Nick holds them off.  
Nick totally did not like that idea. He went, I think not. _You_ can hold them off, if you want to be gallant, and the goddess and _I_ will make a run for it.  
But the reporters were all rushing over to us and Draco was already grabbing onto my hand and tugging me. He said, Come on. You only live once, and started dragging me away.  
And like the really stupid chump that I am, I let him.  
That's right. I let him drag me back up the path, to the oak front doors, where a whole other bunch of reporters had already congregated. Because his hand felt so nice over mine, so big and protective, so warm and secure, I thought, Oh, what could happen? So a bunch of flashbulbs will go off. So what? We'll just make a run for it, like he said. Everything will be fine.  
So I said to Nick, as Reporter Pack One started bearing down on us, waving fluorescent quills, That's OK, Nick, you try and hold them off a bit. Draco and I will go back inside.  
Nick said, No, Goddess, wait –   
Which were the last words I heard out of him – for a while, anyway – since by that time Draco and I were about ten metres away from him and he got swamped by all these reporters who were yelling out, It's her! It's her!  
And then Draco was pulling me up the steps, and I was sort of laughing, since for the first time it _was_ sort of fun. Flashbulbs were going off everywhere, blinding me, so that all I could see were the steps underneath us as we ran up them. I was totally concentrating on holding up the hem of my dress robes so I didn't trip up, and had put all my faith in those fingers wrapped around my other hand. I was completely dependant on Draco to lead the way, since I couldn't see a blessed thing.  
So when he suddenly stopped, I thought it was because we were at the oak front doors. I thought we'd stopped because Draco was opening the doors for me. I know it's stupid, but that's what I thought. I could see the doors. We were standing right in front of them. Below us, on the stairs, the reporters were screaming questions and taking pictures. Some moron was yelling, Kiss her! Kiss her! which I don't need to tell you was way embarrassing.  
And so I stood there, like a complete IDIOT, waiting for Draco to open the doors, instead of doing the smart thing, which was open the doors myself and get inside where it was safe, where there weren't any Quick-Quotes Quills or reporters or people yelling _Kiss her, kiss her_.  
And then, I don't know how, the next thing I knew, Draco had put his arm around me again, dragged me to him, and smashed his mouth against mine.  
I swear, that's exactly what it felt like. He just smashed his mouth against mine, and all these flashes started going off, but believe me, it wasn't like in those books Lavender reads, where the boy kisses the girl and she sees, like, fireworks and stuff behind her eyelids. I really WAS seeing lights go off, but they weren't fireworks, the were flashes from cameras. EVERYONE was taking a picture of Goddess Hermione getting her first kiss.  
I am not even kidding. Like it wasn't bad enough that this was my first kiss.  
It was my first kiss, and _Teen Witch Weekly_ was photographing it.  
Another thing about those books Lavender reads: in those books, when the girl gets her first kiss, she gets this warm gushy feeling inside. She feels like the guy is drawing out her soul from deep within her. I didn't get that feeling. I didn't get that feeling at all. All I got was embarrassed. It didn't feel especially good, having Draco Malfoy kiss me. All it felt, really, was strange. It felt strange, having this guy stand there and smash his mouth against mine. And you would think that after I'd spent so much time thinking this guy was the greatest thing on earth, I'd have felt SOMETHING when he kissed me.  
But all I felt was embarrassed.  
And like dinner, I just kept wishing it would end. All I could think was, When is he going to stop doing this? Am I even doing this right? In the movies they move their heads around a lot. Should I move my head around? What am I going to do if he tries to stick his tongue in there, I like used to see him doing with Pansy? I can't let _Teen Witch Weekly_ take a picture of me with some guy's tongue in my mouth: my parents will kill me.  
Then, just when I thought I couldn't stand it another minute, that I was going to DIE of embarrassment right there on the front steps of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Draco lifted up his head, waved to the reporters, opened the oak front doors and pushed me inside.  
Where, I swear to Circe, every single person I knew was standing in the Entrance Hall, looking at us.  
I am not kidding. There was Parvati with Dean, looking at me in a sort of shocked way. There was Lavender with Seamus, with her mouth hanging open. There was Ginny and Harry, and for once, Harry had actually managed to get his hair to look halfway decent. In fact, he almost looked handsome, in a geeky Wizarding hero kind of way. And Ginny, in these beautiful white dress robes with spangles all over, and white roses in her hair. And there was Neville with Susan Bones, and Fred and Angelina, George and Katie, Lee and Alica, and a bunch of other people I probably knew but didn't recognise out of their school robes, all looking at me with the same sort of expression Parvati was wearing, one of complete astonishment.  
And there was Hagrid and Professor McGonagall, both standing by the doors to the Great Hall, looking more astonished than anybody.  
Except maybe me. And Ron. But he wasn't there, so he couldn't have looked astonished. Wow, I wonder what _he_ would have done if he was there. I bet he would have tried that slug-hurling hex on Draco again.  
But I would have to say, out of everybody that _was_ there, I was the person most in shock. I mean, Draco Malfoy HAD just kissed me. DRACO MALFOY had just KISSED me. Draco Malfoy had just kissed ME.  
Did I mention that he'd kissed me ON THE LIPS?  
Oh, and that he did it in front of the reporters from _TEEN WITCH WEEKLY_?  
So I'm standing there, and everybody is looking at me, and outside, I could still hear the reporters yelling and inside the Great Hall, I could hear the Weird Sisters playing some new song of their's that I don't know the name of, and these thoughts are moving really sluggishly through my head, these thoughts that are saying:  
He set you up.  
He only asked you out so he could get his picture in the paper.  
He's the one who notified the press that you'd be here tonight.  
He probably only broke up with Pansy just so he cold tell his friends that he's dating a girl who's worth three hundred million Galleons. He never noticed you until you picture was on the front cover of the _Prophet_. Ginny was right: that day in Hogsmeade, he WAS only suffering from a synaptic breakdown when he smiled at you. He probly thinks his chances of getting a job at the Ministry or whatever are way enhanced by the fact that he's the Goddess of Mount Olympus's boyfriend.  
And like a dumb schmuck, I fell for it.  
Great. Just great.  
Ginny says I'm not assertive enough and fear confrontation. Professor McGonagall says I have a tendency to internalise everything.  
My Mum says the same thing. That's why she gave me this book for my birthday, in the hope that what I won't tell her, I'll at least get out into the open somehow.  
If it hadn't turned out that I'm a goddess, maybe I might still be all that stuff. You know, unassertive, afraid of confrontation, an internalizer. I probably wouldn't have done what I did next.  
Which was turn to Draco and ask, Why did you do that?  
He was busy patting himself down, making sure he looked all right after all that running and physical over exertion. Do what?  
Kiss me like that in front of everybody.  
He sort of combed his fingers though his hair so it was all neat and stuff. I don't know, he said. Didn't you hear them? They were yelling at me to kiss you. So I did. Why?  
Because I didn't appreciate it.  
You didn't appreciate it? Draco looked confused. You mean you didn't like it?  
I said. That's exactly what I mean. I didn't like it. I didn't like it at all. Because I know you didn't kiss me because you like me. You just kissed me because I'm a Goddess of Mount Olympus.  
Draco looked at me like he thought I was crazy.  
That's crazy, he said. I like you. I like you a lot.  
I said, You can't like me a lot. You don't even _know_ me. That's why I thought you asked me out. So you could get to know me better. But you haven't tried to get to know me at all. You just wanted to get your picture in _Witch Weekly_.  
He laughed at that, but I noticed he didn't look me in the eye when he said, What do you mean, I don't even know you? Of course I know you.  
No, you don't. Because if you did, you wouldn't have ordered me steak for dinner.  
I heard a murmur go around through all of my friends. I guess they recognised the seriousness of Draco's mistake, even if he didn't. He heard them too, so when he replied, he was talking to them too. So I ordered the girl a steak, he said with his arms open in a So-hex-me sort of way. That's a crime? It was _filet mignon_, for Merlin's sake.  
Ginny said, in her meanest voice, She's a vegetarian, you sociopath.  
This information didn't seem to bother Draco very much. He just shrugged and went, Oops, _so_ sorry.  
Then he turned to me and said, Ready to slide?  
But I had no intention of sliding with Draco. I had not intention of doing anything with Draco, ever again. I couldn't believe, after what I'd just said to him, he thought I'd still _want_ to. The guy really _was_ a sociopath. How could I have ever thought he'd seen into my soul? HOW???  
Disgusted, I did the only thing a girl can be expected to do, under those circumstances:  
I turned my back on him and walked out.  
I headed off in the direction of the marble staircase so that I could hole myself up here in Gryffindor tower, so that no one would see me crying.  
As I was walking away, it finally registered to Draco that I was ditching him. By that time, all his Slytherin friends had shown up in the Entrance Hall, and they came tumbling through the doors just as Draco said, sounding totally peeved, Merlin's beard! It was just a kiss!  
I whirled around. It wasn't just a kiss, I said. I was getting really mad. Maybe that's how you wanted it to look, like it was just a kiss. But you and I both know what it was: a media event. And one that you've been planning since you saw me in the _Prophet_. Well, thank you, Draco, but I can get my own publicity. I don't need _you_.  
Then, after holding my hand out to Nick, who'd come back inside, for my journal, since I'd given it to him after I got back from the Girls' Bathroom, I took it and stalked up the stairs to Gryffindor tower. Which is where I am now, writing this.  
Queen Mab! Can you BELIEVE that? I mean, I ask you: my first kiss – my first kiss ever – and next week it's going to be in every teen Wizarding magazine in the world. I wonder what the headline under the picture will be? _Young Deity In Love_?  
Excuse me, but _ew_.  
And the kicker of it all is that I am totally NOT in love with Draco Malfoy. I mean, it would have been nice – Who am I kidding? It would have been GREAT – to have a boyfriend. Sometimes I think there really is something wrong with me, that I don't have one.  
But the thing is, I would rather not have a boyfriend at all than have one who is using me for my money or the fact that my mother is a ruling goddess or for any reason, really, except that he likes me for _me_, and nothing else.  
Of course, now that everyone knows that I'm a goddess, it's going to be kind of hard to tell which guys like me for me, and which guys like me for my powers (which I don't even know about yet. Mum said we'd start working on them after I've done my N.E.W.T.s). But at least I realized the truth about Draco before things went on too long.  
How could I have ever liked him? He's such a user. He totally used me! He purposefully hurt Pansy, and then he tried to use me. And I played right into his hands like the stupid sap that I am.  
What am I going to do? When my parents see that photograph, they are going to FLIP OUT. There is not way I will ever be able to explain that it wasn't my fault. Maybe if I'd punched Draco in his stupid perfect face again in front of all those cameras. Maybe then my parents would believe I was an innocent bystander  
But probably not.  
I will never be allowed out with a boy again, ever, for the rest of my natural life.  
Uh oh. I hear voices outside my door. Someone is knocking and wanting to talk to me.  
It's Lavender and Parvati. They want to know if I'm all right. Somebody else is with them.  
Oh, dear Merlin, I recognise that voice! It's Ginny! Ginny, Lavender and Parvati all want to know if I'm all right!  
Ginny is actually speaking to me again. Not criticizing me, or complaining about my behaviour. She is actually speaking to me in a friendly manner. She's saying through my door that she's sorry for laughing at my hair and that she knows she's controlling, and she says she's going to make a concerted effort to stop telling everyone, especially me, what to do.  
Wow! Ginny is admitting she did something wrong! I can't believe it! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!  
She and Lavender and Parvati want me to come out and hang out with them at the Ball. But I told them I don't want to, It would be too awkward, all of them with dates, and me by myself like a big dope.  
And then Ginny goes, Oh, that's OK. Ron came down after dinner. He's been hanging around by himself like a big dope for the past hour.  
Ron Weasley went to a school social event??? I can't believe it!! He never does anything, except play Quidditch and chess and make sarcastic comments and stuff!! I wondered why I didn't see him in the common room when I came up!!!  
I have got to see this for myself. I am going down there right now.  
More later.

**Sunday 28 October 2001**

I just woke up from the strangest dream:  
In my dream, Ginny and I weren't fighting anymore; she and Lavender and Parvati had become friends; Harry turned out to be not such a twit and _finally_ admitted that he likes Ginny; Madam Hooch said she was raising my Flying grade from an F to a C; I slow-danced with Ron; and Cornelius Fudge's wife left him (because he's such an idiot, I suppose), so there wasn't a single picture of me and Draco kissing in any of the newspapers, since all the papers were filled with photos of divorce carnage.  
But it wasn't a dream! It wasn't a dream at all, none of it! It had all really happened!  
Because I woke up this morning and was pretty sure I wasn't on a bed, and when I opened my eyes I saw that I was sitting on the couch in front of the fire in the common room, leaning on Ron who was sleeping next to me with his arm around my shoulders! I mean it. I spent the night in the common room and Professor McGonagall will probably give me a detention if she ever found out!  
And I don't care! Professor McGonagall can give me all the detentions she wants to! I have my best friend back! I'm not going to flunk out of 5th Year! My parents aren't going to kill me for kissing Draco Malfoy!  
Oh, and – no, I won't tell you now, it's SO GOOD you have to wait for it!!!  
I can hardly write for happiness.  
Little did I know when I came out of Gryffindor tower for the second time last night, with Ginny, Lavender and Parvati, that all this happiness lay in store for me. I was morbidly depressed – absolutely _morbidly_ distraught – over what happened with Draco.  
But when the four of us got down to the Entrance Hall, Draco was gone. Ginny told me later that after I publicly humiliated him, Draco went back into the Great Hall for the Ball, not looking as if he cared too much. Ginny isn't sure what happened after that, because Prof McG asked her, Lavender and Parvati to go and check on me (wasn't that sweet of her?), but I have a feeling Nick may have used one of his special nerve-paralysing hexes on Draco, because the next time I saw him, Draco was slumped over at a table, with his forehead resting on one of Hagrid's giant pumpkins. He didn't move all night, either, until Professor Snape had to use _Mobilicorpus_ to get him down to the dungeons at the end of the night, but maybe that was because of all the vodka he'd had to drink.  
Anyway, me, Ginny, Lavender and Parvati joined Harry, Seamus and Dean at the table they had been sitting at for dinner. There were more giant pumpkins and these bowls that had mist fountaining out of them on the table, and we moved some of the pumpkins and sat there right on the tabletop, so we could see everything.  
And then Ron suddenly appeared from nowhere, looking really REALLY good in these navy-blue dress robes that Fred and George had apparently bought him over the summer with profits from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Ron must have been pretty pleased to not have to wear those maroon dress robes anymore, I know he hated them, and navy-blue is a much, much better colour on him than maroon is.  
I thought that Ron was going to start with the I Told You Sos, but guess what? He didn't! He sat down next to me and asked if I was all right, and then we had fun for a while cracking jokes about how the Slytherins were sure getting into the Halloween spirit, since just about all of them were wearing black dress robes and looking rather morose. Then somebody started talking about Quidditch, and how Oliver Wood had made the Puddlemore United firsts team, as in not the reserves, and Ron insisted that the Cannons are a much better team than Puddlemore any day. And Seamus was totally about to get into an argument with him, which wouldn't have been very smart on Seamus's part, since Ron's the King of Arguing, even if he was probably wrong in this case, when the music changed, and a slow song came on, and everybody left the table to go and dance.  
Well, everybody except for Ron and me, of course. We just sat there amdist the giant pumpkins and the mist.  
Which wasn't too bad, actually, since Ron and I never run out of things to talk about – unlike me and Draco. We kept on talking about Quidditch, and I didn't even mind, when Professor McGonagall and Madam Hooch both came over and asked if I was OK.  
I said of course, and that was when Madam Hooch told me she was glad to hear it, and, by the way, based on my flying all of this last week, I had brought my F in Flying up to a C, for which she congratulated me and urged me to keep up the hard work while Prof McG beamed beside her.  
But I credited my improved flying performance to Ron, who taught me to relax my grip on the broomstick handle, to not be so jerky when I'm turning, and to pull up just slightly when I'm breaking so as to not crash into the ground. Ron got all embarrassed and claimed not to have anything to do with it, but Madam Hooch didn't hear him since she and Prof McG had to hurry off and put out a fire that Neville had started on the other side of the Great Hall after eating a handful of Fred and George's Super Pepper Imps.  
Then a fast song came on and everybody came back, and we sat around and talked about Ginny's newspaper, which we are all going to be involved in the production of. Ginny asked if I minded being the topic for the first issue, in an article entitled The New Divinity: Deities Who Make A Difference. I gave her exclusive rights to my first public interview, if she'd promise to ask me about my feelings on the plight of house elves.  
Then another slow song came on, and everybody went to go dance to it. Ron and I were left sitting amidst the pumpkins and the mist again and I was about to ask him who he'd choose to spend eternity with if Armageddon whipped out the rest of the population, Meghan McCormack or Madam Rosmerta, when he asked me if I wanted to dance!  
I was so surprised, I said sure, without even think about it. And the next think I knew, I was slow-dancing my first ever slow dance with my best friend, a guy that I have known, and, I will admit this now, have been in love with, since I was eleven years old.  
Wow. I finally admitted it. Mum's right, it IS better to get these things out in the open.  
Anyway, did you know that slow-dancing is just so _strange_? It isn't even dancing, really. It's more like standing there with your arms around the other person, moving from one foot to the other in time to the music. And that really was my first ever slow-dance. I didn't slow dance like that with Viktor last year. I didn't have my arms around Viktor the way I had mine around Ron, and Viktor didn't have his arms around me the way Ron did. With Viktor it was like that stodgy old fashioned dancing, like waltzing, you know what I mean?  
And anyway, with slow-dancing, I guess you aren't supposed to talk – at least, nobody else around us was talking. I guess I could sort of see why, since you are so busy _feeling_ stuff, it's hard to think of anything to say. I mean, Ron smelled so good – like this fresh clean soapy smell Woo hoo! Towel image!! Heh heh heh!!! – and _felt_ so good – the dress robes Grandmamma picked out for me were pretty and everything, but I was kind of cold in it so it was nice to stand close to Ron, who was so warm – that it was next to impossible to _say_ anything.  
I guess Ron felt the same way, because even though when we were sitting on the table with all the pumpkins and mist, neither of us ever shut up, we had so much to talk about, when we were dancing together, neither of us said a word.  
But the minute the song was over, Ron started talking again, asking me if I wanted some iced pumpkin juice or a chocolate frog or some trifle from this big long table along one side of the Great Hall that had been piled up with sweets and desserts. One thing you have to say about Ron is that he likes his sweets. You know, Mum would probably have a fit if she knew how much sugary food he eats. Then again, she's not a dentist anymore  
Any so anyway, that was how the rest of the night went: we sat around and talked during the fast songs, and danced during the slow ones.  
I don't know, to tell the truth, which I liked better, talking to Ron, or dancing with him. They were both so interesting. Who am I kidding??? They were both WONDERFUL!!!  
When the Ball ended, we all went up the marble staircase to Gryffindor Tower (Hagrid told me the reporters had all left by then, since the story about Fudge had broken: I suppose they went to go stake out his house). I must say, going up that big staircase was much nicer the second time, as Ron was holding my hand  
The Fat Lady was pretty happy to see all eight of us – ten, if you count Nick and Neville, who had already said goodnight to Susan in the Entrance Hall – show up at the her portrait together. She was rather surprised to see Ron, though; she'd been visiting Violet when he'd come down to the Ball and she hadn't realised he'd left Gryffindor tower. Then she swung open and we all climbed into the common room, where we played End Of The World until Professor McGonagall finally came in at like 1am – in her tartan dressing gown – and told us all to go to our dorms.  
Everybody said goodnight and headed up to their dorms, except Ginny, Harry, Ron, and me. As Nick made his way out to head back to the Ritz, I made him promise not to tell my parents, especially my Dad, about the kiss. He said he wouldn't, but you can never tell with guys: they have this weird code of their own, you know? I was reminded of this when I saw Nick and Ron giving each other high fives right before he left.  
The strangest – and most wonderful – thing out of everything that happened last night was when Harry and Ginny went up to their respective dorms, leaving Ron and me alone down in the common room, and he asked me if I wanted to play a game of chess.  
I was really tired. It had been a really long day. I had broken up with a boy I had only been out on half a date with. That can be very emotionally wearing.  
But there was something about the way Ron's ears went bright pink that made me say yes.  
So we sat down and played.  
And guess what?  
I WON!!!  
I am not even kidding! I beat Ron Weasley at chess! This was turning into a pretty big night of first-times.  
As I jumped up to do a quiet little victory dance and then moved over to the couch in front of the fireplace and flopped down with a HUGE grin on my face, Ron sat down next to me and laughed.  
said Ron, grinning just as much as me. That was the first and last time you'll ever beat me at chess!  
Oh yeah? I said. We'll see about that.  
Well, you only won because I was distracted, said Ron.  
By what? I challenged, still smiling.  
Ron stared right into my eyes and I felt my heart start beating faster. You know what? I think he was looking into my soul. Really. My heart never beat faster like that all those times I thought Draco was looking into my soul. I think that Ron was _actually_ looking into my soul.  
Then he said, I was distracted by you.  
I didn't know what to say. I was in shock. But honestly, it was a nice shock. I had never thought Ron that would ever say something like that to me. It was totally something that Mr Darcy would say to Lizzie Bennett in _Pride and Prejudice_. Or that Colin Firth would say to Renée Zellweger in _Bridget Jones's Diary_ (although I suppose those two are practically the same story).  
But RON was sitting there next to me on the couch, looking into my soul and saying it to ME!  
I finally found my voice. That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me, Ron, I said.  
Ron smiled his cute lopsided smile (have I ever told you about his cute lopsided smile? Well, let me tell you, it is one cute smile). he said with a little laugh, I thought you were going to pull your wand out on me and make me sprout leeks out my ears.  
I laughed too. Ron is so funny.  
Then he did something even more unexpected than telling me that I distracted him to the point that he lost a game of chess. He reached over and took my hands in his. He has such nice warm hands. He took his hands in mine and then was looking down at them as his face went really embarrassed-red and he said, Look, about this afternoon, when I was being horrible to you He stopped and swallowed. I was really upset about you going to Halloween Ball with Malfoy because this was the second time I didn't get to take you to a ball.  
He said all that really, really fast.  
My breath caught in my chest. He HAD wanted to take me to the Ball! He had wanted to take me and he'd tried to ask me loads of times but something always happened and he never got around to it! That's why he hated Draco even more than he had hated him earlier, if that was possible! And he'd wanted to take me last year too! That's why he hated Viktor so much! THAT'S why he'd got mad at me yesterday afternoon: HE _HAD_ BEEN JEALOUS!!!  
He told me all this as he was talking really, really fast, which was OK because I couldn't actually say anything.  
I wanted to cry. But in a good way! I was so happy I wanted to cry!!!  
Then Ron stopped talking and looked at me as I sat there and tried not to cry. I figured if I started to cry he'd think he'd messed up by telling me all this and that I hated him and he'd get really upset and probably never talk to me again. I couldn't let that happen, because he didn't mess up by telling me this and I don't hate him! I don't hate him one little tiny bit.  
Aren't you going to say something? he said, looking all worried.  
I can't say anything because I'm so happy I want to cry, I blurted out, really fast. Even faster than how Ron had been talking. So fast, in fact, that it sounded more like, Ican'tsayanything'causeI'msohapIwannucry.'  
And then I started crying.  
But Ron must have heard what I said and not been freaked out about me crying because he leaned over, put his arms about me and pulled me into this really warm hug, and held me really tight.  
I sat there, frozen with happiness, wrapped in warm Ronness, bawling into his shoulder.  
After a little while, as Ron was sort of stroking my hair – it felt really nice, he wasn't patting my head all awkwardly like that time I hugged him in 3rd Year when I was so upset about finding out that Hagrid had lost Buckbeak's case with the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, and he said he would help me, he was like running his fingers thought my hair and it felt really, really nice – he said, You know what, Hermione?  
I sort of mumbled into his shoulder.  
I always knew you were a goddess. Even when you didn't have this veela hair and when your teeth were sort of big and you used to boss me around all the time. You've always been a goddess to me.  
I pulled away out of his arms and looked up at him as he smiled down at me. Then I broke into a fresh wave of sobs.  
I don't think I have ever cried so much as I did last night. But the second time I was crying, I actually enjoyed it. How weird is that? I enjoyed crying. Because when I broke down again, Ron just wrapped me up in his arms again and I have never felt better in my life than when Ron hugs me. I mean it. He is SUCH a good hugger.  
And hugging's not all Ron can do really well.  
After I'd stopped crying again, I pulled out of his hug again – even though I actually didn't want to – and looked at him. He looked right back at me. And we just sat there was who knows how long, just looking into each other's souls. I mean it.  
Then I suddenly felt really assertive again. Like I could do anything in the world.  
That was when I did it.  
No fuss. No asking his permission. No hesitation whatsoever. I just leaned up and kissed him. Right on the lips.  
And that was when I found out what all those books Lavender reads are talking about. When you kiss the guy that you are in love with, and have been in love with for ages and ages, it's a kind of magic that doesn't need wands or potions or spells.  
It's just _magic_, plain and simple.  
I told you it was good, didn't I? It was so good, that it was worth the wait, wasn't it?  
We obviously must have just fallen asleep in each other's arms right there on the couch, because when I woke up a little while ago, I was still in Ron's. He was still fast asleep when I lifted his arm up so that I could Summon this book from my room so I could write in it about the most wonderful night I have had so far in my entire life.  
But before I Summoned this diary down, I lay there in Ron's arms and I thought, Really, I am a very lucky girl. Things had looked pretty bad there for a while. But isn't it funny how everything kind of works itself out in the end?  
Oh, Ron just sort of snorted in his sleep, I think he's waking up. I should go.  
I don't know why, but I AM SO HAPPY!  
I guess it doesn't take much, does it?

And Ron & Hermione Lived Happily Ever After  
The End!!!

* * *

A/N2: To quote Lady Norbert, _That was so darned fluffy at the end, it should have three heads_. Heh heh heh! ::happy sigh:: We all knew those two would _eventually_ end up together, didn't we? Didn't I tell you?! :o) The bit about Hermione kissing Ron was adapted from TPD3 (which you can get from www.dymocks.com.au). In that, it's Michael who makes the move (oh, so I gave away the ending, but as _if_ you didn't know already that they'd end up together!!!) but I figured Ron couldn't do all the work in their relationship, and it was time Hermione was more assertive! Well, that's all, folks, please review, thank you and good night!

Oh, no, let me ramble some more and milk this for all it's worth ;o) Special mentions to: **Lady Norbert **(Fellow Queen of HP Crossovers, general all-round R/Hr legend), **Incitata** (Queen of the Anti-Fluff), **Slytherin Godess**, **Beauty Full**, **Xaviera Xylira**, **Jules** (wondermous!), **whats_their_name**, **James Bow, Destiny Pheonix**, **Hermione**, **Fleur**, **nuwandaforever**, **LisaQT3**, **Sango-sama**, **L.uMiNafyre**, **likeicare**, **Lady and Vortex** (can I have another poem for this chapter? LOL!!!), **Kate** (Goddess of Rambling, who never actually reviewed, you cheater! LOL) and last but certainly not least, **LoPotter** (I honestly couldn't share a brain with a nicer, funnier, more talented and more perfect _Scary Twin_! Nutter! ::hug::), who have either been with me all the way and/or are just fabulous people! YOU ARE ALL SIMPLY _SPIFFING_! ::mwah!::

Now that I've finished this (::sniff::) I can move on to other marvellous new projects, including a Harry Potter/Pride and Prejudice crossover which I'm working on with ST-Lo and is going to be _absolutely corking_! And my funky original' fic, Complicated, is getting a major editing overhaul at the moment, and now I have time to finish it! Stay tuned! See you all around!  
Cheers, Love, Peace, The Truth Is Out There & R/Hr Forever, Squin :o)


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